


burning up on you (got me losing all my cool)

by goldminegoldmine



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: D/s undertones, Friends to Lovers/Friends with Benefits, M/M, Marijuana, Rough Sex, Sexting, Sexual Tension, Threesome - M/M/M, Use of the word Slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldminegoldmine/pseuds/goldminegoldmine
Summary: There’s no time all day to talk, but there is somehow time for Taeyong to grab Johnny’s arm at least seven times, sit on his lap twice, feed him from his hand four times, and tell him he loves him once. So Johnny is almost positive that they’re doing just fine. He is, however, not fine with the memory of Taeyong’s mouth on his mouth, teeth in his lip, the heat of his tongue for that one burning moment —He has no idea how to handle this.-Or: Johnny is horny, Taeyong is easy, and Doyoung is there for... moral support.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 14
Kudos: 186





	burning up on you (got me losing all my cool)

**Author's Note:**

> yes, this is basically 20k of porn. what can i say? i heard a calling and i followed it. 
> 
> the D/s isn't that hard but it's definitely there, and there's some mild choking/spanking/throwing ty around as well as general teasing and humiliation fun :)

Taeyong is fluttering all around, cooking for 30 in the eye of a hurricane.

It’s something he does well and often, but it never fails to impress. Taeyong hops over to Doyoung with his sauce-covered spoon and gets a pleased hum. Yuta says, “Fuck yeah, wait come back, more!” Taeil gives him 8 out of 10.

Taeyong hops over to Johnny. Johnny pretends to consider, waiting for Taeyong to pout before he gives in. Of course the sauce is delicious, spicy and sweet, and there’s enough of it to feed them all twice which might be necessary at this point. The swarm of hovering boys getting hungrier by the minute; Donghyuck’s been whining for half an hour, and now Mark is joining in. “ _Please_ , practice was _so long_ today hyung!” on top of “I like crunchy noodles, it’s fine!”

It’s chaos, but it always is.

The pot on the stove is bubbling now. It really does smell amazing. Johnny dips a finger in the sauce, stomach growling, but before he can make it to his mouth he’s intercepted. Intercepted by _Taeyong’s mouth,_ swooping in and slurping down _two_ of Johnny’s _fingers._

His tongue curls around and between them, chasing the sauce, and he hums.

Johnny’s mouth falls open and distantly he can hear Yuta wolf whistle, but he can’t actually look away because Taeyong’s _lips_ are still around his _fingers_ and there’s suction as he pulls back, not looking at Johnny, eyelashes fluttering just a little, a long, low “Mmmmmmhhh” vibrating against Johnny’s hand.

It’s. Alarming, to say the least, and it’s not _stopping_ , and Johnny’s starting to get nervous. Partly because he can smell something starting to smoke, but mostly because he’s about to pop a boner right here in the kitchen in front of 80% of his group if Taeyong doesn’t stop _sucking_ on his _fingers._

Finally, _finally_ Taeyong pulls back and the wet heat disappears. "Needs a little more salt!" He spins and continues cooking, and Johnny just stands there, stares at his wet fingers. What the fuck.

He locks eyes with Doyoung across the kitchen, who gives Johnny a once-over, smirks, and leaves the room.

"What the fuck."

—

Johnny’s brain has never truly been Taeyong-free, not since they met.

Taeyong skittered in out of the rain with his big eyes and his shitty emo boy outfit and into Johnny’s life, brain, heart — and eventually into his group, his room. It’s not a complaint, just a fact. The fact is that Johnny has been somewhat fixated for a long time. Long before he found out exactly how hot and wet the inside of Taeyong’s mouth is.

Now, though, it’s becoming a little bit of a problem.

Like when his eyeline desperately needs to shift and Johnny can’t force it to. Like when Jungwoo is talking to him as his hair’s being curled and Johnny hasn’t heard a damn word because all he can do is watch Taeyong from across the room.

“Johnny, hyung, are you listening?” Jungwoo whines up close to his ear and Johnny blinks.

“Sorry, what?” He forces himself to look at Jungwoo, but Jungwoo is looking at Taeyong now too.

“Yongie-hyung is so pretty, isn’t he?” Jungwoo coos.

Taeyong is messing with his bangs, playing with his face in the mirror. Part of his pre-show routine. Snarling his lip at his reflection and bouncing a little, pursing his mouth, furrowing his brow and peering into his own heavy-lined eyes. Johnny suddenly has the overwhelming need to tell him how pretty he is, how good his outfit is going to look on stage, how intense he looks in that makeup, how pretty his earrings are.

Jungwoo flicks him in the back of the head and Johnny honestly feels bad for not listening. “Sorry Jungwoo-ah, I’m just distracted.”

“It’s okay hyung.” Jungwoo pats him. “We all have our moments.”

Doyoung says something to Taeyong and he turns so Johnny can’t see his face anymore. Johnny shakes his head and blinks, hard. They’re called onstage.

—

God, Johnny is sweating so much. Which is really a non-issue and a daily thing for him, but right now he feels like he needs to jump in a cold lake or he'll rip his skin off.

He drags a hand across his face and pushes his hair back. The problem is definitely Taeyong. Johnny is sweating twice as much because he had to use twice the normal amount of energy on stage just keeping his eyes away. Shaking his head every fifty seconds: _look at the crowd, you creep, Taeyong’s wearing a belt around his neck and that is normal and fine._

He has never been so glad to step off a stage before in his life. He needs a shower — a long, freezing cold one.

Taeyong isn’t the easiest roommate in the world, but Johnny has never resented their living situation as much as he does when he pushes into the bathroom and it’s already occupied. The most needed shower of Johnny’s life, and Taeyong is standing between him and the tub. Taeyong, shirtless and wearing his red fucking belt choker, the end of it dangling down between his sharp bare shoulderblades, marks from his mic belt around his waist.

Taeyong looks up, swiping his wet bangs up off his face. Johnny must look like a mess, because when Taeyong catches his eyes in the mirror he raises an undone eyebrow, gives Johnny’s disheveled self a once-over, and smirks.

A fast flash of heat bursts in Johnny’s gut and flares through his whole body. He steps forward, three long strides, grabs the belt around Taeyong’s neck, and _tugs_ . He watches in the mirror as Taeyong’s neck arches, as he jolts and falls against Johnny’s arm and lets out this fucking _noise_.

A choked, stuttering whine that goes on forever in the quiet room.

“Jesus, Taeyong.” Johnny lets go of the choker and catches Taeyong’s shoulders so he doesn’t fall over. Taeyong is breathing so hard, water dripping from his hair onto Johnny’s shirt.

“Oh my god, um, I’m sorry.” Johnny’s tongue is too big for his mouth. “I don’t know why I did that, I just. Needed to shower.”

Taeyong groans, all airy and broken up. He’s leaning back against Johnny’s chest now. Johnny needs a shower. Johnny needs —

Johnny just fucking _choked_ out his friend, on a whim, with absolutely no forethought or consideration for him, and his hand flies up to Taeyong’s throat to check if the belt is too tight. He’s pleased that he can slip a finger under it and tug it away from Taeyong’s jugular.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too fucked up from the rush of arousal that’s currently decimating him.

“Whew,” Taeyong breathes out harshly, swallowing against Johnny’s hand. “Yeah I’m okay. Woah.”

“Okay,” Johnny says. Okay. He spins Taeyong around so he can see his eyes. They’re huge, dark and huge like always, but glassier. A little unfocused, wandering around Johnny’s face. “I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Taeyong says, so softly. “You didn’t hurt me. Uh. You, um. You should shower.”

It’s almost painful to let go of Taeyong’s shoulders, but Johnny does it, and then he’s alone in the bathroom with shaking hands.

The shower is a relief, but it’s not enough. God, he wants to touch himself so badly but he knows, he _knows_ how easy it is to hear through these walls, even with the water running, so he makes it almost too cold to stand and grits his teeth. He washes the dry sweat from his skin and does not think about his dick. At all. Almost not at all. He at least doesn’t touch it more than he absolutely has to.

He gets dressed in the bathroom, which he never does. His heart is beating so fast when he opens the door, and it jumps when he sees Taeyong sitting on the edge of Johnny’s bed, oversized t-shirt and faded boxers, playing with the fins on Johnny’s hammerhead plushie.

It’s like a stopper opens up and all the tension drains out of Johnny’s body. Taeyong looks up at him, a little shy expression. Johnny smiles. Confusion and erections aside, that’s his Taeyong. He isn’t going to fuck this up.

Taeyong stays right where he is until Johnny reaches the bed and shoves him gently so he can crawl in and under the duvet.

“Come on Taeyongie, sorry for being weird, let’s just sleep.” Taeyong looks at him, uncertain, and god that’s not what he wants. “Come onnn,” Johnny whines. “I’m tired, come on. Bring the shark.”

He is not too proud to make grabby hands and tug Taeyong down, determined now that he’s past the shock of the night to let any tension dissipate and just squeeze Taeyong like he wants to. He pulls Taeyong down and onto his side, petting a heavy hand down his shoulder and landing in the dip of his little waist. Taeyong settles into him after a moment, letting his body sag back against Johnny, still clutching the shark and sighing a big sigh.

“S’all good John,” Taeyong mumbles. “Sweet dreams.”

Johnny breathes a goodnight into the top of Taeyong’s hair, and he’s gone.

—

It turns out Johnny wasted his time worrying over Taeyong’s reaction to his little choker moment. Taeyong doesn’t balk, doesn’t act awkward around him — if anything, he’s more touchy and attentive than ever. It’s a little painful and a lot endearing.

Johnny is relieved when he ends up in between Taeil and Mark for movie night. Taeyong’s sweater is big enough to fit him twice and he’s wearing his round glasses, socks with pink polka dots. If Johnny isn’t next to Taeyong then he can’t touch him too much, can’t do something stupid like grab his thigh where its bare and soft looking, or yank on the neck of his sweater. If Johnny turns his head to the right a little, he can’t see Taeyong at all. It's perfect.

It's perfect for half an hour or so, and then Johnny caves.

He looks.

Taeyong is tucked into Doyoung’s side, socks up on the coffee table. Doyoung’s eyes are slipping closed; he never can make it through a full movie. Johnny resolutely ignores the tug he feels to go over and pull Taeyong into his lap. He looks small and warm, playing with the hem of his sweater.

Mark and Donghyuck cackle to his right over something Johnny didn’t see on screen, snapping him out of his trance.

The distraction only lasts a minute though, and Johnny turns again just in time to see Taeyong slide a hand over his stomach, pushing his sweater up, exposing the tops of his thighs and his boxers, a tiny bit of skin above his waistband which his thumb now strokes, back and forth.

Johnny swallows. He should just leave. Get out before he embarasses himself again.

Taeyong hikes his sweater up past his bellybutton, free hand drawing idle patterns, knobbly fingers tapping on his belly. His eyes are fixed on the screen. Johnny can’t look away to save his life. He’s honestly short of breath by the time Taeyong has gently poked each of his own ribs, up and down, up and down.

That’s when Johnny sees that Doyoung is not actually asleep. His eyes are mostly closed but he’s looking down at Taeyong’s exposed skin too. The pointed tips of his fingers press into Taeyong’s hip. Taeyong flattens his palm against his own stomach and sighs. Johnny could swear his hips rise, just a little. His body slides down the couch an inch or two, and his sweater bunches up and yep, that’s a little glimpse of his nipple, he’s really feeling himself up out here in the living room — Johnny takes a moment to pray that the movie is engrossing enough that no one else looks away, because he honestly thinks he might die if he blinks, if he misses one second of Taeyong’s display —

So he notices, of course, when Doyoung’s fingers come up, grab the delicate looking skin of Taeyong’s side, and _pinch_.

The noise Taeyong makes is unfortunately familiar but this time Johnny can _see_ his reaction too, the way his whole body stretches tense, lips dropped open in a little ‘o’ in the half light. He groans, long and growling and not at all quiet.

“Hey Doie, I think you and Taeyong might need to get a room,” Yuta laughs. “Then he can take his underwear off too.”

Taeyong scrunches his whole face up. “It’s just warm in here,” he grumbles and blushes but doesn’t pull his sweater down.

“Um, it’s actually kinda cold,” says Mark, helpfully.

“Then how am I so hot though?” Donghyuck asks, unfazed by the whole spectacle.

“I’m just warm!” Taeyong insists.

"Whatever you say," Doyoung mutters, sharp fingers still touching Taeyong’s skin. Skin that’s turning redder every second, from the tips of his ears to his neck to the imprints on his hip. He’s squirming a little in embarrassment now but he still hasn’t pulled down his sweater and he’s making no move to dislodge from Doyoung’s side.

Johnny — a man possessed, a man with zero control over himself or his mouth — says, “Maybe Taeyongie just felt cute and wanted us to know.”

Doyoung lets out a loud, startled laugh and Johnny flushes. Fuck, that was way too much. He’s losing his goddamn mind.

He’s half a second from getting up and bolting, but then Taeyong looks at him and gives him the sweetest, most open smile, showing his teeth and blinking slow. No else is saying anything. When did the movie end? He’s pretty sure his heart is beating loud enough to hear. Taeyong’s whole stomach is out, rising and falling. He just keeps _looking_ at Johnny.

“Well I think you’re cute hyung.” Donghyuck breaks the silence matter-of-factly and stands up, ruffling Taeyong’s hair as he exits.

Doyoung smiles down at Taeyong with his shark tooth grin and squeezes his hip; Johnny watches the skin go pale where he presses in. His heart is fucking pounding.

“Everyone knows Taeyongie is cute, he doesn’t need to show us.” Doyoung’s voice is low and just a notch past his normal teasing tone. His eyes flick up to meet Johnny’s, but when he speaks it’s meant for Taeyong: “But you can’t help yourself, can you?”

Taeyong looks right into Johnny’s eyes too as he answers. "Can't help myself," he says, delicately. His ears are bright red.

Doyoung laughs, delighted.

Johnny doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He’s torn between running away to go jerk off and hoisting Taeyong over his shoulder and hauling him off to… do. Something. The fact that he’s so scared to fill in that blank takes the option off the table, but in the end it doesn’t matter because Doyoung makes the choice for them.

“Taeyongie, why don’t you get ready for bed? I’m going to go read for a while, but when you’re done you can join me. If you’re not too tired.”

Taeyong’s eyes rip away from Johnny and he looks up at Doyoung, surprise clear on his face. He doesn’t say anything — just stares for a long moment and then stands. Johnny feels the loss viscerally when Taeyong’s sweater falls back down to cover his skin. He stands and he looks so small and almost lost as he looks at Doyoung again, then at Johnny. Johnny wants to scream, kiss Taeyong, shove him, give him everything he’s ever wanted. But before he can do anything, even blink, Taeyong has shuffled away.

Doyoung stands too, but Johnny still can’t move. Over his shoulder with another smirk, Doyoung throws this:

“Don’t strain yourself, Johnny-yah. Go take a shower.”

Johnny wants to stop him, ask him what the hell is happening, but he moves too quick and the fact is that he’s right. Johnny really needs a fucking shower.

—

Something has to give.

There’s really only one place to turn for answers, and his name is Doyoung. The only one who seems tuned in to Taeyong’s behavior, the only one who seems to know whatever it is that Taeyong wants or needs. If Taeyong was going to let anyone take him apart and put him back together again, it would be Doyoung. If it wasn’t Johnny… if not him, it had to be Doyoung.

He finds Doyoung in the kitchen, perched on a stool with his phone in one hand and a cup of almost-black coffee in the other. Johnny swallows. “Hey Doyoungie.” God, Johnny really doesn’t want to do this.

“Hi, hyung.” Doyoung looks up, open as ever. He really does take good care of them all, Johnny included. 

“I have uh. A question? I guess?” Johnny did not actually plan what he was going to say but now he’s here and he has to say _something._ Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “It’s about Taeyong,” Johnny says, hoping Doyoung might help him out and fill in the blanks.

“Ahh,” Doyoung breathes, and sets his phone down, crossing his legs and facing Johnny fully. “I honestly can’t believe we haven’t talked about this yet.”

“Does he… Do you and he…” God, Johnny should’ve just texted him, this is a disaster. “There have been some uh, moments with him lately and it just seems like maybe you’ve had your. Fair share of moments like that.”

“Johnny-yah I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific.” That smug curl of his mouth looks meaner than it really is, but it’s still a hot feeling, sitting under it. “I know our Taeyongie can come on strong, but I know you know that too, so what’s your actual question?”

Screw it.

“Does Taeyong…” Johnny is looking at Doyoung’s eyes and he wishes he wasn’t; they’re so focused, intensely curious. “Does Taeyong let you… hurt him?”

“Let me?” Doyoung laughs and it’s not even mocking; it’s a real laugh. “Oh my god. That’s your question, does he let me… He practically begs me to. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hurt him as much as he wants me to.”

Johnny can’t help how his mouth hangs open. “He begs?”

Doyoung laughs harder. “Yes! Oh my god! Have you really not?”

The heat in Johnny’s face is the worst. He smacks Doyoung, kind of hard, for making him feel dumb. “Yah! Shut up, I’ve! I’ve done… stuff. Mostly on accident. I’ve… what have _you_ done?”

There’s a twinkle in Doyoung’s eye. “Not that much. Some light pain play and handjobs, you know how it goes. And he really likes sucking dick.”

Johnny’s jaw is fully dropped. He really likes — _fuck_ there’s just no way Doyoung is lying. Taeyong really likes sucking dick. It’s so easy to imagine, Johnny’s going to explode.

“I do _not_ know how it goes! Jesus.” He rakes a hand through his hair, thoroughly shaken. Doyoung mostly just looks amused. “You’re telling me you’ve —” Johnny realizes how loud he’s being and drops his voice. “You’re telling me you’ve had sex with Taeyong.”

Doyoung pats Johnny’s shoulder. The asshole. “Not like, that much sex. Just a little, y’know. For the stress. Taeyong’s a man of many needs, lots of stress.”

“I know,” Johnny says. He does know. He just didn’t know what Taeyong needed was sex with Doyoung, or being hurt on purpose. He thought it was maybe like… a week off, or a long hug. A box of pretty cupcakes. More scheduled alone time and a new dildo, or something.

“Honestly I’m surprised you haven’t slept with him at least a little bit, the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him obviously.”

Johnny’s definitely blushing now. Fuck Doyoung’s knack for being blunt right when most people would start tiptoeing.

“Yeah, well. I haven’t. Other than, like, _actual_ sleeping.” He hopes he doesn’t look too forlorn about it. “But I’ve, uh. I’ve done some stuff like. Um. Kind of choked him out on accident but he seemed like he liked it?”

Doyoung throws his head back and laughs, but Johnny can’t even be mad because it really does sound ridiculous.

“Oh, I am one hundred percent sure he liked it,” Doyoung snorts.

Johnny has to ask. “Have you — ”

Of course _that’s_ when Taeyong enters the room. Hair fluffed up, big soft t-shirt, pillow creases on his fucking cheek. His face scrunches up in a smile when he sees them. “Hellooo!” he chirps, breezing past to fill up his water bottle. His voice is sleep-rough and he stretches, overextending his arms and popping his shoulderblades as the sink runs to cold.

“Good morning Taeyongie,” says Doyoung, whose smile is fond and gentle. He leans in close to Johnny’s ear.

“You want to see what he likes?”

Johnny’s nothing if not an encyclopedia of Taeyong’s likes and dislikes. “What?”

Taeyong takes a long drink and hums in satisfaction, bobbing his head.

Doyoung stands and steps over to him, reaching for Taeyong – Taeyong who smiles and leans into his side without hesitation. Always thrilled to accept the touch. Doyoung places one hand on Taeyong’s nape and grabs his arm with the other, squeezes him. Then, he _twists_.

He twists Taeyong’s forearm _hard,_ skin going red right away, and Taeyong’s mouth falls open. His eyelids flutter shut and his tongue comes out to press against nothing as he lets out a loud, loud “Aahhh!”

If he couldn’t see Taeyong’s face, Johnny would label it a noise of pain. But Taeyong absolutely melts; his body goes limp except for his chest rising and falling fast, and it’s a few seconds before his eyes open. As soon as they do, Taeyong seems to realize what’s happening and that it’s happening in front of Johnny. A blush makes its way across his skin and he opens and shuts his mouth with no words. Doyoung squeezes his arm again, then slides down to take his hand.

That seems to snap Taeyong out of it, and he smacks Doyoung with his free hand and an admirable attempt at looking indignant. “Yah! Why did you do that! Is it because I ate your last mochi?”

Doyoung just laughs. “Sure,” he says. “Next time ask Johnny-hyung, I’m sure he’ll buy you your own mochi.”

Johnny groans and buries his face in his arms. He’ll buy Taeyong all the mochi in the goddamn world.

—

After that, Johnny shuts his brain off.

He doesn’t feel _great_ about it, but it’s a necessity at this point because it’s like Taeyong is living behind his eyelids at night and he already sees him all day every day and it’s just. It’s becoming a bit too much. There should be a limit to how many times you can think about slapping your groupmate around in one day; there should _definitely_ be a rule against the noises Taeyong makes and the way he presents his throat to Johnny on the regular.

Johnny hasn’t choked him once, not even on accident. He’s very proud of himself for that, especially since Taeyong owns more chokers than the rest of them combined and seems dedicated to incorporating them into his daily wardrobe.

For example, there’s absolutely no reason for Taeyong to be organizing his desk right now wearing nothing but a pair of worn camo joggers and the chain choker from today’s outfit, but here he is. Humming along to his music, dusting and lining things back up how he likes them. Forcing Johnny to notice the way his muscles move right under his skin, how his waist dips in and out so nicely before the joggers interrupt. His nape cut across by that damn chain, all his earrings still in. Johnny wants to grab him by the back of the neck, bend him over the desk, run his hands down his sides —

But he can’t and he won’t.

Logically, Johnny knows it’s likely Taeyong does want him at least a little. In some way. But there’s no fucking way he’s going to take a handful of tense moments and Doyoung’s word for it and fuck things up for good. There’s no way he’s going to risk _actually_ hurting Taeyong.

The ball is firmly in Taeyong’s court. Johnny crosses his pinkies together.

—

They get stoned in Chicago.

The parade of ducklings in and out of Johnny’s room has slowed, members falling away for naps or snacks or both. Mark and Doyoung have been absorbed by their phones and their bed in the spare room, so it’s just Taeyong left, hovering behind Johnny’s shoulder as he moves around his room, setting up his things for just a couple nights, just to feel at home.

So much has changed since Johnny first left for Seoul, but some things are just the same: the SHINee posters on the walls, that old oak tree out the window. Johnny grins as he rummages around under his bed — yep, there it is. The dusty metal tin one of his high school friends gave to him once for safekeeping and never came back for.

“Ooh, Johnny-Johnny, what’s that?” Taeyong is way too close to his ear, and too loud for how late it is.

“Here, Yongie-Yongie, why don’t you find out?” he asks with a grin, handing over the box.

Taeyong’s face is exactly as ridiculous as Johnny was expecting – mouth open and eyes as big and round as they get. He punches Johnny in the shoulder, then clings. “Are you serious? I’ve never done that. Do you actually think we can?” He smells the tin and wrinkles his nose.

Johnny grins and winks. “No cameras, no staff, window’s open and my mom doesn’t care. I think this is maybe the only time we can.”

Taeyong bites his bottom lip and stares at Johnny’s hands then up, into his eyes. “Don’t make fun of me, okay?”

Johnny laughs, surprised and delighted at the agreement. He half expected Taeyong to refuse. “Just watch me, I’ll show you how.”

They sit on the edge of Johnny’s bed and he holds the bowl up to his face, shows Taeyong where his fingers go. Taeyong startles a little at the flame and goes cross eyed watching the smoke drift from between Johnny’s lips. Johnny tries not to giggle. Taeyong watches the smoke spiral up and diffuse along the ceiling, enraptured.

Once his lungs are empty, Johnny hands the pipe over. He keeps the lighter and touches Taeyong’s knobby fingers, moving them into place.

“Okay, now breathe in for a sec after I light it, then take your finger off here and breathe in some more.”

Taeyong purses his lips and goes cross-eyed looking down the pipe as Johnny lights it for him. He only breathes in for half a second before he’s whining and coughing and letting all the smoke slip out too fast. Johnny chuckles, can’t help it with the cute confused expression Taeyong makes at the taste.

There’s still smoke slipping from his mouth when he asks, “Did I do it right?”

Johnny laughs again, but only because Taeyong is so goddamn cute he can’t help it. “Almost, just try breathing in gentler and holding it in for a sec. You won’t cough as much.”

“Okay, okay, one more,” says Taeyong, making grabby hands. Johnny lights the bowl for him again and he does better this time, holding the smoke in for a second before he lets it go. He growls a little when he breathes out, but he doesn’t cough.

Johnny grins at him. “Congrats, you’re a certified American stoner now.”

Taeyong giggles. He already looks a little loose and goofy. “American stoner,” he repeats. “John Suh, you’re corrupting me.”

Johnny takes another hit, looking Taeyong straight in the eye and quirking a brow at him. He may or may not exhale a little sexier than he needs to, blowing a couple tiny smoke rings for effect. The way Taeyong watches him makes something tug in his gut. He knows his voice is low and rough when he asks, “Am I really though?”

Taeyong doesn’t respond, but he does flush a little as he holds out his hands for the pipe. Johnny lights it for him again, thoroughly endeared at how eager he is.

The next half hour passes in that rhythm, back and forth, and Taeyong melts further into Johnny’s bed every time the pipe switches hands. The conversation is easy and nonsensical. Taeyong’s fingers fiddle with the frayed edges of Johnny’s old hoodie and he keeps stopping mid sentence to sing along with the music. Johnny’s chest is burning pleasantly and his head is full of warm static.

When they’ve smoked down to the last hit, Taeyong actually pouts at him about it.

Johnny clucks his tongue. “Such a rebel, Yongie.”

“Rebel Yongie.” Taeyong giggles so hard he falls onto Johnny and almost spills the last of the bowl. “GTA, baby!”

“Rebel Yongie can have the last hit, but be careful!”

Like everything else he’s ever tried, Taeyong’s gotten the hang of this fast. He holds the smoke in his tiny chest for as long as he can before he puffs it out in a big gust, right into Johnny’s face.

“Jesus,” Johnny splutters. “If you wanted to shotgun you could’ve just asked.”

There’s about a one percent chance Taeyong knows what that means, but he’s too busy giggling and falling over onto Johnny’s shoulder to care. His elbow is digging into Johnny’s arm but he’s too heavy and stoned to readjust, so he just lets Taeyong pick threads off his hoodie and watches the wind move the shadows of the tree on the wall. It’s warm. It’s nice. He might never move again.

There’s no telling how much time passes before either of them speaks, but Taeyong is the one to break the silence.

“Johnnyyyyyy,” he whines as only Taeyong can whine, voice even fuzzier and more fucked up than before. “Johnnyyyyyyy, please.”

“I give you weed, I let you in my bed, what more could you possibly need?” Johnny mumbles, patting Taeyong’s head.

“I’m sleepyyyyy, Johnny.” He clings to Johnny’s arm and rubs his face against his shoulder like a kitten.

“Sleep then, princess,” Johnny mumbles, half asleep himself.

“You’re the princess,” Taeyong huffs. He starts poking at Johnny’s tummy. “Johnny-ahhhhh, Youngho-yahhhhh.”

“Whaaat?”

Taeyong just keeps poking at his stomach, tugging on his arm, tugging and tugging and huffing at him. When Johnny doesn’t respond, Taeyong tugs _hard_ , and Johnny is so surprised that it works: he flops over and then his body is blanketing Taeyong’s almost completely. Johnny grunts. Taeyong’s hipbone is digging into his stomach.

“Yes. Thank you,” Taeyong says, voice sleepily satisfied, squished up against Johnny’s neck. He clasps his hands together over Johnny’s back to keep him there.

Johnny huffs into Taeyong’s hair.

“Oh yeah,” Taeyong says, in his nonsensical rap-tone-voice. “Oh yeah, Princess John, don’t move.”

He sounds so smug and so, so stoned that Johnny loses it, giggling into Taeyong’s hair until he inhales some of it and has to come up for air. “How am I not squishing you?”

“Squish me,” Taeyong says happily, rubbing Johnny’s back with his hands, up and down.

God, Johnny feels it all through his body when Taeyong nuzzles his little nose into his neck, bumps his bumpy top lip against his skin. His breath is hot and damp. Fuck, he’s such a dumbass for getting Taeyong high. Should’ve known his last ounce of self-restraint would evaporate with the smoke.

Taeyong’s hands come down from around his back and burrow their way between their bodies to press against Johnny’s stomach. Trapped under Johnny’s weight, Taeyong still manages to wiggle his fingers enough to tickle. With his hands by his sides like this Johnny can only really reach Taeyong’s hips and the outsides of his thighs, so he pokes him there in retaliation. Taeyong squeaks, wiggles his hand up to pinch Johnny’s nipple over his hoodie. Johnny yelps. No, that’s bad news, that’ll take him places he doesn’t want to go. He can’t have Taeyong touching his nipples while he’s at limited brain capacity. Or, like, ever.

He rolls off Taeyong. Or, he tries to, but the second he moves, Taeyong brings all his limbs up to lock around Johnny’s body like a little human limpet, and comes with him. And alright, now Taeyong is on top of him, and they’re face to face, bodies fully pressed together. His hands come up automatically and grasp narrow hips. This is chill. This is fine.

Less chill and fine is the way Taeyong’s eyes are suddenly open and roaming around Johnny’s face like he’s never seen it before. Johnny wants to look away but he can’t, not with Taeyong so close. He’s so striking, beautiful, all bloodshot and barefaced. His gaze is too much, Johnny has to say something to break the moment —

“You look like you want to eat me.” That’s not at all what Johnny wanted to say, but it’s out there now, and the way Taeyong grins with all his teeth, narrowing his eyes at Johnny, it really rings true.

“Mmm, John snack,” Taeyong agrees. He reaches up and grabs Johnny’s bottom lip, pulling it down. “Juicy.”

_What the fuck._ “What the fuck,” he tries to say, but it comes out garbled around Taeyong’s fingers.

“Your mouth is so soft, like a mochi. Wanna bite.”

No, no that can’t happen, Johnny’s heart is beating too fast now but he knows Taeyong won’t let him wriggle out from under him. Taeyong is still looking at his face too close, humming some nonsense song, nudging his toes against Johnny’s calves.

Johnny opens his mouth to speak, but Taeyong lurches forward and his words are cut off — by Taeyong’s _teeth_ clamping around Johnny’s _bottom lip_.

He’s really biting, really fucking biting Johnny’s lip and _tugging_ and making a little growly noise in the back of his throat and. Fuck, Johnny’s too stoned for this, is this a _kiss?_ It’s less of a kiss and more Taeyong just gnawing on his lip, and what the hell is he supposed to do with that?

“Uhhhhh,” he says, into Taeyong’s _mouth_ , and Taeyong mumbles something unintelligible and _sucks_ Johnny’s bottom lip hard, into his mouth, for one blazing second before he pops off.

“Uh,” Johnny says.

Taeyong smacks his lips a couple times and then yawns, huge and drawn out.

“Um,” Johnny says again.

“Hmmmmf.” Taeyong drops his heavy head down onto Johnny’s chest. “Sleepy Johnny,” he mumbles, patting his chest once and closing his eyes.

Taeyong is asleep before Johnny’s heart manages to stop thumping, and it’s only thanks to the weed that he drifts off eventually, and doesn’t dream at all.

—

There’s no time to dwell once the morning hits. Waking up isn’t awkward, even with Taeyong still starfished on top of him and the smell of stale smoke in the air. They have to rush a bit, so they don’t talk much, just fall into their pattern. Up early and out all day.

When Johnny put the ball in Taeyong’s court, he didn’t think Taeyong’s first play would be to chew on him like a puppy. He has no idea how to handle this.

There’s no time all day to talk, but there is somehow time for Taeyong to grab Johnny’s arm at least seven times, sit on his lap twice, feed him from his hand four times, and tell him he loves him once. So Johnny is almost positive that they’re doing just fine. He is, however, _not_ _fine_ with the memory of Taeyong’s mouth on his mouth, teeth in his lip, the heat of his tongue for that one burning moment —

He has _no idea_ how to handle this.

—

There’s a knock on the hotel room door. Usually, a knock when he’s in a single room means one of two things, and tonight he's pretty sure it won't be Mark.

Taeyong looks tiny in his big sweater and bucket hat, and he gives Johnny his straight-line-frog-smile and a wave. “Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” Johnny smiles, and steps back so Taeyong can shuffle in. He takes off his hat and his hair sticks straight up with static. Johnny moves forward without thinking to smooth it down.

Taeyong steps closer to him, leaning his head into Johnny’s hand, just a little. So much like the stoned, pliant Taeyong from yesterday night, but now things are much clearer, tension easier to feel. It feels more intimate, somehow, and Johnny lets his hand fall.

Taeyong’s move, he reminds himself.

Taeyong, who isn’t moving away and instead — god, Taeyong is looking up at his mouth, obviously fixated. He doesn’t speak, just breathes, and Johnny’s heart is going a mile a minute again, waiting, but Taeyong doesn’t _do_ anything.

“Taeyong —” Johnny finally starts, not sure what to say but sure he can’t take any more of this silent tension. “Taeyong, wh —”

Taeyong swallows and cuts him off. “Do you want me?”

Johnny’s jaw drops. “What?”

Taeyong is trembling a little now, and looking him dead in the eye. “Last night, that was ‘cause I wanted to kiss you, but I didn’t wanna scare you off.” He waves a hand around in a manic little figure eight. “I mean, also because you got me high, but like.” He swallows visibly. “Do you want me, too?”

Johnny isn’t breathing. What he is doing, involuntarily, is leaning down, moving closer to Taeyong’s face, the lamplight shining off his nose and cheekbones and his cupid’s bow, Taeyong who just asked if he wanted —

“Fuck,” Johnny breathes. “Yeah, I. I mean.”

Taeyong reaches out and fists his hands in Johnny’s shirt, tilting his pretty square chin up.

“Yeah, fuck. Yeah, of course I want you.”

Taeyong is the one who finally surges up enough to brush their mouths together, barely, just enough for them to catch. Taeyong’s upper lip finds its way between Johnny’s just for a moment, the quietest sound leaving his throat before Johnny sways back a centimeter. God, he hates the insecurity that floods his limbs, hates that the fear is so strong now when two weeks ago he was ready to jump Taeyong in the living room.

“Do you really mean it?”

Taeyong reaches up, and his fingers are cool and steady on his cheek. So out of character that Johnny is shocked calm. “Johnny, I love you. I also need you to touch me like, really bad, or else I might die.”

His eyes are twinkling, the little shit, but the nervousness in Johnny’s veins has dulled and all he can think — now that he has permission — is that he wants to eat Taeyong _alive_ so he grabs his face in both hands and kisses him hard.

Taeyong whines, mouth opening right away, arching up to his tiptoes, hands clinging to Johnny’s shoulders. He can feel the shape of Taeyong’s lips so vividly where they’re connected; he slides his mouth a little, just to feel the ridges, his skin more sensitive than it’s ever been. A shudder rips through Johnny’s whole body at a sudden wet heat, and fuck, there’s Taeyong’s tongue, the flavor of his favorite toothpaste.

Johnny groans, pulling Taeyong close, pressing against him, squeezing his little waist. Taeyong sucks Johnny’s bottom lip into his mouth again, swipes his tongue over it, humming like he’s never tasted anything better.

Johnny’s definitely never fucking tasted anything better and he needs more, closer — he hauls Taeyong in so hard his feet come off the floor a little. He squeaks, but Johnny pushes his tongue into the slick heat of his mouth and swallows it. Taeyong’s fingers dig into his neck. Johnny runs his tongue across all the points of his teeth.

God, he wants to somehow pull Taeyong closer but it’s not possible, so he settles for dragging his hands up and down and around Taeyong’s back, trying to feel all of him at once. Taeyong is so, so eager, licking into his mouth, nipping at his lips, tiny noises falling out of him one after another as he kisses Johnny. He pushes one hand up and tangles it in Taeyong’s hair.

Taeyong’s little noises eventually turn into his name. “Johnny-Johnny-Johnny,” he mumbles in the space between kisses. “Johnny.” He bites the tip of Johnny’s tongue.

Johnny tugs on his hair a little and smiles — he can’t help it, Taeyong kisses like he does everything else, earnestly and thoroughly. He doesn’t want to break the kiss but he can’t stop grinning. It doesn’t seem to matter; Taeyong just kisses his teeth.

Something between a chuckle and a groan escapes him. “God, Taeyong…” he mumbles when Taeyong’s lip catches on his chin.

Suddenly their faces are too far apart. Johnny frowns before he realizes it’s just because Taeyong isn’t on his tiptoes anymore. It’s not stopping him. He mouths at Johnny’s chin, his jaw, craning his neck up — and that’s no good, he can’t strain his neck, so Johnny slides his hands down, down down to his tiny ass, and lifts him up.

Taeyong squeals, his arms locking around Johnny’s neck and legs clamping around his hips. His squeal turns to a giggle against Johnny’s cheek. Johnny squeezes his ass and the giggle becomes a yelp. Fuck, he’s the cutest fucking thing, and this is _actually_ happening. He kisses Taeyong again, deep and hot.

Johnny’s back hits the wall and Taeyong’s hand comes up around his head to cushion the impact. That’s — that’s a lot, and Johnny breaks away a little, just to collect himself.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

Taeyong looks _wild_ , hair messed from Johnny’s hands, mouth all red and swollen and _so wet_. Johnny can feel the spit cooling at the corners of his mouth too, and it would be gross if this wasn’t the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Fuck,” Taeyong agrees, and dives back in.

Leaning against the wall with Taeyong strapped to his front and his tongue in his mouth is how Johnny wants to live from now on. Leaning against the wall with, fuck, is that — Taeyong’s pressed so close that Johnny can feel his dick already hard and pressing against Johnny’s stomach. He’s not even grinding really, just moving. Wiggling around, squirming, digging his heels into Johnny’s thighs trying to hold himself up. Johnny hikes him up higher on his hips, but all it really does is rub Taeyong against him.

“Ahhh-ahhhhh,” Taeyong whines, “Oh my god, Johnny.”

Taeyong’s arms are like a vice around Johnny’s neck, hanging on for dear life. When Johnny tries to set him down on the dresser, he whines sadly and clings tighter, nails digging into Johnny’s nape.

“I’m not going anywhere, just.” He plops Taeyong down on the surface and yeah, that’s good, now he can use his hands. One lands on Taeyong’s cheek to swipe up a wet trail that’s escaped from the corner of his mouth. “God, you’re so…”

“I’m what?” Taeyong is trying to smirk but his face is so red and he keeps biting his lip. Johnny groans. Drops his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck.

“Much.” He bites, and Taeyong gasps, loud. “Gorgeous. Taste good.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t kiss me for so long,” Taeyong pants.

Johnny bites him again, closer to his throat. “Shut up, I was being respectful.”

Taeyong laughs. “That’s nice, but you can stop it now.” He scoots to the edge of the dresser and presses forward so Johnny can feel him again.

He’s burning when Johnny finally gets a hand on his skin, snuck up his sweater. Taeyong fists tight in Johnny’s hair and kisses him deep. He pushes forward, spreading Taeyong’s legs as far as they’ll go so he can line their hips up and, yeah, there it is. It feels like they’ve been doing this for hours, and Johnny’s so hard in his jeans it’s starting to hurt. He should’ve taken them off. Fuck.

Taeyong pushes against him erratically and he’s just so fucking _noisy,_ little grunts and whines and gasps spilling past his busy lips. If he sounds like this already, Johnny might actually die when they —

He’s too overwhelmed to finish that thought. Now that they’ve started, there’s _so much_ he wants to do.

Nothing is higher on that list than staying lost in Taeyong’s mouth though, so Johnny stops thinking. Taeyong’s hands move, frantic, all over his back, pulling on him as if there’s any space left between them to close. He keeps pressing forward, pushing his crotch against Johnny’s. No real friction just hot, searing pressure. Johnny sets his nails in Taeyong’s back and pulls down, firmly scratching, and Taeyong _keens._

“Ahh, Johnny, ahh,” he whines, without breaking the kiss.

Johnny bites down on his bottom lip hard and rolls his hips, really rolls them once, twice, again, again. Taeyong is panting, little “Oh!” sounds puffing in Johnny's face as he fails to focus on the kiss. The fire in Johnny's gut is building.

He rolls his hips until the zipper of his pants really becomes a problem. Taeyong lets him slow down, stops moving his own hips as much, and Johnny finally breaks away from his mouth. He moves down to lick at Taeyong’s neck, suck on the skin there as he tilts his head to make room. He tastes the tendon he's spent so much time staring at, leaving it wet and shining, travelling down.

He's just about to move Taeyong’s sweater out of the way to get at his collarbone when Taeyong yawns, big and loud.

Johnny laughs against his neck. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my goddddd,” Taeyong agrees, burying his face in Johnny’s hair and breathing deep. “We have to be awake so soon.”

“We should sleep,” Johnny says, cringing at how rough his voice sounds. “There’s no rush… I guess.”

Taeyong pouts, but giggles. “Yeah. I guess.”

Johnny takes one last deep kiss, and steps back an inch. He groans when he unbuttons his pants and Taeyong stares shamelessly as he strips them off, mouth hanging open. “Don’t get any ideas,” Johnny says, chuckling and reaching out to push Taeyong’s bangs aside. “We really should sleep. You didn’t even sleep on the plane.”

Taeyong pouts, and strips his sweater over his head.

“Taeyongie,” Johnny says, rolling his eyes. He indulges for one second, runs the flats of his palms down from Taeyong’s shoulders, down his chest, swiping his thumbs over his belly, fitting his hands around his sides. He’s so warm and so soft. Johnny could do this all night.

But it’s really, really late, so Johnny hooks his hands under Taeyong’s thighs and picks him up again. And if he throws Taeyong down onto the bed harder than necessary just to hear what kind of sound he makes, fuck, at least Taeyong seems to enjoy it.

His hair fluffs out in a halo and he giggles up at Johnny, hand on his own bare chest. God, he looks so good, sleepy and flushed red. Johnny tugs his slippers off, then his socks, and Taeyong somehow flushes even more when he crawls forward and hooks his fingers under the band of his sweatpants. He’s wearing his favorite light grey briefs and he’s still half-hard. Johnny’s fingers itch to touch.

“Ugh,” Johnny groans. “Get under the covers, we really need to sleep and looking at you isn’t calming me down.

“Well if you want _me_ to calm down don’t _compliment_ me,” Taeyong huffs, but he looks so pleased.

Johnny just laughs and strips his shirt off. He pounces on the bed and wrestles the duvet over them both before Taeyong can stare at him. Very consciously does _not_ press up against him. He can feel how tired he is, down to his bones, and it makes it a little easier to handle Taeyong’s warmth.

Taeyong shuffles close. “One more,” he mumbles, smacking his lips together.

Johnny smiles, kisses him soft and open.

“Okay, goodnight. More tomorrow,” says Taeyong definitively, and buries his face in Johnny’s neck.

Johnny falls asleep with a smile on his face.

—

Infuriatingly, tomorrow they get busy.

Not the good kind either; they don’t even wake up early enough to shower, and they only have time for a few rushed, hot kisses against the door before they check out of the hotel. And then it's a whole damn day of keeping their hands more or less to themselves.

It’s hard. Taeyong can’t keep his hands to himself on a normal day, and since Johnny is on the list of members who won’t squirm away when he grabs for them, it’s easy to gravitate towards each other. He plops himself right down on Johnny’s lap in the waiting room of whatever radio station they’re at today and Johnny has to pretend to groan and grumble and slide him off to the side, or else he’ll do what his body’s screaming at him to do — grab Taeyong by the hips and grind _up._

“Chill out,” Johny hisses, like that’s even a possibility.

Taeyong grins up at him

Johnny sighs. Only five to seven more hours of filming, rehearsal, and performing to go. No fucking problem.

—

It’s becoming clear that sleep is a sacrifice Johnny will make in exchange for Taeyong.

The first night back home after a long stretch of plane-hopping always has him passed out in ten minutes and asleep for ten hours, but not this time. ‘ _Meet in our room in ten ?’_ Taeyong had texted him, eight minutes ago. This time, Johnny’s body is wide awake.

He literally couldn’t think of anything to say other than ‘ _yes pls’_ so that’s what he sent, and now he waits.

Taeyong rainfall taps his fingers a few times before he opens the door, even though it's his own room. Peeks his head around, soft hair, no makeup, the grin curling his mouth slightly sheepish. “Hiiiii,” he calls softly.

Johnny stands up and his smile comes easy. “Hey babe,” he says and Taeyong blushes.

“That’s not fair,” Taeyong pouts, shutting the door and moving towards Johnny with a bounce in his step. “You can’t call me cute names and be all sexy at the same time.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Was I being all sexy?”

Taeyong smacks his chest and looks at him with the lamp’s light sparkling in his eyes. “You know what you’re doing,” he says, and his voice is faux-grumpy but he’s leaning in, up against Johnny, pressing the slight weight of his body against Johnny’s front. Tilting his chin up.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Johnny giggles.

Taeyong pouts again. “What are you waiting for, then?”

And Johnny doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he grabs Taeyong’s face and kisses his ridiculous pout, framing the square of his jaw with his thumbs. He opens right away with a sigh and Johnny licks into his mouth. Johnny tilts his head up to kiss him deeper, deeper, sucking on his tongue and getting a needy whine in return. Taeyong goes fully pliant, molded to Johnny's frame.

“You,” Johnny mumbles between kisses. “Little shit,” kiss to his chin, “made things difficult all fucking day.” Wet kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I hope you’re happy.”

Taeyong full-on giggles. “Yes, obviously yes, I am. Now make me happier please.”

The way he's pushing against Johnny has him shuffling back until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Make him happier? Johnny can fucking do that. Maybe five seconds into making out is too early to be manhandling Taeyong into the center of the bed so he can cage him in and grind against him, but Johnny has a _job_ to do.

Judging by the noises he’s making, Taeyong is fine with it too. Little groans that all run together as Johnny licks and bites his way down the absurd arch of his neck. His hands are in Johnny’s hair, pulling him closer, and his knees automatically fall apart so Johnny can fit between. Johnny can feel him already getting hard, and he grinds down, slow and deliberate. Taeyong yelps. Johnny bites down on his neck.

“Johnny-Johnny-Johnny-Johnny-Johnny,” Taeyong babbles, gripping at Johnny’s scalp, breathing loud and quick in the quiet room. “Johnny, please.”

“So noisy.” He shakes his head. He doesn’t actually _want_ to shut Taeyong up, but it does make him think of all the things he _could_ do to shut him up. “Please what?” Johnny asks against his damp skin. “What do you want?”

“God, anything,” Taeyong whines. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about you all day, please just —” He shoves one hand under the back of Johnny’s shirt. “Just touch me.”

And fuck if Johnny’s gonna say no to that. He kisses Taeyong again, drags his hands from Taeyong’s neck all the way down his front so he can push up his shirt. God, he’s so small and soft, belly rising and falling fast. Johnny wants to put marks all over him. He moves down and bites right below Taeyong’s bellybutton, gets a sharp gasp. He mouths over the thin skin of Taeyong’s hipbone, bites again. Taeyong’s fingers tangle in Johnny’s bangs, hanging on.

When he moves up Taeyong’s torso, when Johnny kisses up his sternum and over, gets his mouth around a small perked nipple, Taeyong _wails_.

He flattens his tongue against the bud and drags. Taeyong can’t stay still at all, and it’s so endearing but it’s making Johnny’s mind run fucking wild. He shakes his head, moving over to Taeyong’s other nipple and biting down. Hard. Taeyong’s ribs rise up, arching off the bed, smacking into Johnny’s face, his whine long and broken.

“God, Taeyongie, you’re just —” Johnny cuts his own sentence off with a groan, grinding down against Taeyong, pressing him into the mattress, spreading his skinny thighs even more.

“Johnny, fuck —” Taeyong grinds up against him, harsh. “Fuck, please, I want —”

“Tell me what you want,” Johnny orders against the hollow of his throat.

“I want…” Taeyong pulls him up and sucks a bruising kiss to his mouth. “Everything, ahhh, god —"

"You're gonna have to be more specific, babe," he snickers.

Taeyong groans. "Ughhh, fine, I need your cock in my mouth, like, right now.”

“Fuck,” he kisses Taeyong hard. “Well, if that’s what you need…” Taeyong giggles and Johnny sits up a little. “I need to get you naked first though,” Johnny says.

Taeyong bobs his head excitedly and raises his arms, elbows hyperextended. He waits. Johnny shakes his head, pursing his lips as he pushes Taeyong’s shirt up and pulls it off.

Taeyong immediately makes grabby hands at him. “You too, you too, you too,” he chants.

Johnny laughs, but obeys. He strips his shirt off and Taeyong whistles and sits up to get his hands on Johnny’s stomach. “Mmmmmm,” Taeyong hums, skimming up, across his chest and down his sides. “Mmmmhmm.” He nods, bumpy fingers petting hungry over his skin.

Johnny laughs again — that’s the same noise Taeyong makes for his favorite foods. His laugh ends in a shiver as Taeyong’s fingertips follow the cut of his muscles down to his hips. The feeling runs through him, twisting hot in his gut. Taeyong’s short nails drag lightly down to his waistband. Johnny helps him out, tugs his sweatpants down.

Taeyong’s mouth is open and his eyes are stuck on the bulge of Johnny’s briefs. He looks like he’s gonna start drooling any second but, no, this isn’t the right arrangement. Johnny grins at him and grips his waist tight, lifting him and rolling them over so Johnny is the one leaning against the pile of pillows and Taeyong is on top, straddling his hips.

Taeyong blushes bright red. “Jesus, Johnny, you can’t just…” He rakes a hand through his hair, the other resting low on Johnny’s stomach, propping him up.

“What?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he scoots down so his face is level with Johnny’s crotch, and leans forward. Johnny’s about to help him out again when Taeyong pushes forward with a groan and seals his mouth over Johnny’s dick through the fabric.

“ _Fuck,”_ Johnny groans. Fuck, his mouth is so hot and he’s still groaning, inhaling deep. “Fuck, Taeyong, oh my god.”

Taeyong mouths up and down Johnny’s shaft through the cotton, breathing hot and wet. God, Johnny’s gonna die before he even gets his mouth on skin — Taeyong presses the flat of his tongue against his cock, letting some spit escape, soaking through, mouth open wide to fit, leaning over Johnny with his ass in the air —

“Oh my god,” Johnny groans again. “Taeyongie…”

Taeyong hums and sucks once, _hard_ , then pops up. He grins at Johnny, bright, open-mouthed and happy.

“Jesus,” Johnny says with conviction.

Taeyong is just staring at his crotch now, his briefs wet and dark with spit, cock more than fully hard.

“Your dick is, like.” Taeyong swallows. “Really big.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Johnny flops back onto the pillows and covers his face with his hands. “Yeah, and?”

“And,” Taeyong says in a playful tone. “Gimme it.”

Johnny yelps and looks up as his waistband is suddenly yanked down and the cool air hits his cock. It’s only for a second though — Taeyong’s blonde head darts down and then it’s just wet, wet heat and Taeyong’s tongue swirling around the head of his cock like a lollipop.

“Oh my god,” he groans, loud, and Taeyong makes a pleased sound and sinks down even further. Fuck, he’s not even gagging yet and he’s taking Johnny deeper, humming, vibrations zinging through him. “You don’t have to, ah, fuck — go that deep —”

Taeyong looks up at him and, god, he’s smiling around Johnny’s dick somehow, lips stretched, red and wet at the corners. He doesn’t pull off to respond, instead he seals his lips, curls his tongue, and sinks down _fast,_ all the way to the base. Fuck, Johnny’s inside his _throat_ and Taeyong is still fucking _humming_ even if the sound is interrupted by little choking, gagging sounds now. Johnny has no idea how loud he’s being at this point, and he reaches down desperately, grasping Taeyong’s hair and pulling.

He’s honestly trying to get Taeyong to pace himself and breathe, but Taeyong just huffs and shoves his head down forcefully.

“Fuck, oh my god,” Johnny groans. Taeyong’s face pressed into the hair at the base of his dick. The hot squeezing heat of his throat sending white shoots of pleasure down his legs into his feet. “You’re —”

Taeyong is _not_ letting up, sucking at Johnny’s dick like he wants to swallow him whole. “Fuck, Yong, what the fuck,” he pants.

Taeyong pulls back with a wet, loud sound. He’s breathing so hard, flushed all the way down his chest and he looks, frankly, delighted.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Johnny groans.

Taeyong giggles. “Really? I thought you’d talked to Doyoung…”

Johnny blushes at being found out. “Well, yeah, but nothing could’ve prepared me for _that,_ Jesus.”

“Johnny, everyone wants to suck your dick,” Taeyong giggles, staring at it again, eyes blown black. “And I like you the most, so obviously I wanted to _the most_.”

“Ughhh,” is all Johnny says, caught between wanting to groan and coo at Taeyong. He hauls himself up so he can squeeze Taeyong closer to him. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, and leans in to lick into Taeyong’s mouth. He tastes himself, bites down on Taeyong’s bottom lip.

Taeyong leaves his lip out in a pout even after Johnny lets it go with a flick of his tongue.

“Okay, but I was _not_ done,” he says, and pushes on Johnny’s chest. He kind of wants to chastise Taeyong for telling him what to do, but more than that he wants to see what Taeyong has in mind, so he sinks back willingly.

He does want one thing, though — “Take off your pants, Yongie.”

Taeyong whimpers. He looks down, knobbly fingers hooked in his waistband.

Johnny reaches up and grips his narrow hips, slips his thumbs under too. “Look at me,” he says, and Taeyong obeys immediately. His eyes are _huge_.

He looks at Johnny and Johnny pushes his sweatpants and underwear down at the same time, fingers just barely curving along his ass. He waits until Taeyong’s pants are all the way off before he lies back down and gives Taeyong a once-over, raking his eyes slow over his body; thighs still spread wide because that’s the only way he can stay propped up over Johnny, cock all hard, compact and flushed red, pretty as the rest of him.

“So pretty, Taeyongie, look at you,” Johnny coos. He reaches out and touches a finger to the wetness gathered at the tip of Taeyong’s cock. It twitches, and Taeyong whines. Johnny wraps his hand around it, hot and tight, making his whine pitch higher. His body curls forward, hand on Johnny’s stomach trembling.

“So pretty and loud,” Johnny mutters.

God, Taeyong is breathing so hard and Johnny’s barely even moving his hand, just squeezing his shaft and watching him fall apart.

“Johnny, Johnny, oh my god,” he pants, staring down at where his dick is swallowed by Johnny’s fist. His whole body quaking, the heel of his hand grinding into Johnny’s stomach with the effort of holding himself up. Johnny lets him go and sits up a little, grabbing his hips instead. Taeyong whines, sadly this time, and Johnny chuckles.

“I’m just trying to help you out, baby,” Johnny says, and Taeyong makes a desperate little sound.

This is the perfect opportunity to test a theory: the theory that helping Taeyong out equals throwing him around.

So he grabs Taeyong and roughly flips him over, throws him down on his back. He yells, and his cock bounces against his belly, and this is absolutely the best day of Johnny’s life so far. He leans forward to cage Taeyong in, addicted to how small he looks like this, wriggling against the duvet, hips thrusting up erratically into nothing.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, leaning down just enough to get his tongue on Taeyong’s skin.

Taeyong arches up against Johnny as much as he can as Johnny bites and licks down his belly. He smells like coconut cucumber soap and sweat. He smells familiar. Looking at him, Johnny thinks he can probably fit his whole cock in his mouth without much trouble, so he decides to test that theory too.

“Oh my god!” Taeyong shouts when Johnny wraps his lips around his leaking cock. All his remaining control evaporates — his hips buck up and his fists slam against the mattress. Johnny drapes an arm heavy across his hips to hold him still.

He’s by no means a pro at this, not like Taeyong apparently, but Johnny manages to coax a whole string of noises out of Taeyong with his tongue, circling the head and sucking, flicking his tongue over the slit. It feels like he’s barely started when Taeyong’s hand is twitching into his hair and tugging him up. Johnny licks his lips, satisfied to know what Taeyong tastes like now in several ways.

“God, Johnny,” Taeyong groans. “You’re so fucking hot. I wanted to finish though.”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow. “Why’d you stop me then?”

“No, I wanted to finish with _you_ ,” Taeyong grumbles at him, tugging him in by the hair and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, biting with his sharp kitten teeth. “God, I can’t believe you, please just —” he bites Johnny’s lip again.

“Taeyongie, you never finish your sentences,” Johnny teases. “Please what?”

“Please just fuck my mouth!”

And okay. Alright. Taeyong is literally a dream come true, and Johnny is totally going to fuck his mouth.

“God, you’re too much.” He kisses Taeyong again, deep and messy, and pushes him again. Taeyong smiles, giddy. He wiggles up against the pillows and Johnny helps manhandle him into the right position.

Taeyong drops his mouth right open, and waits.

Johnny shakes his head like that’ll somehow calm him down and moves close. Taeyong looks tiny like this and Johnny’s almost afraid of hurting him. Almost. He can see the spit shining on Taeyong’s pink tongue as he waits with his jaw dropped. He looks up at Johnny with his best big doe eyes and that’s always worked better than any ‘please’, so Johnny presses the tip of his cock to his pink bottom lip and pushes in. Not too rough but not too slow, exhaling, shaky at the overwhelming heat that engulfs him.

“Mmf!” Taeyong says happily, mouth stuffed and throat open as Johnny sinks in completely.

Taeyong’s eyes flutter shut and his jaw relaxes all the way. He hums, satisfied. God, he feels amazing, it’s all Johnny can do to keep his eyes open and keep his balance enough to pull out a little and thrust back in. Taeyong’s eyes fly open, like he wasn’t expecting Johnny to _actually_ fuck his mouth.

“Okay?” Johnny threads a hand through his damp hair. Taeyong’s eyes scrunch up and he nods as much as he can.

So Johnny pulls out again, groaning loud and unrestrained, fucking back into the overwhelming heat of Taeyong’s mouth, pressing him hard against the pillows with the force of his hips, bottoming out. Taeyong is gagging, little muffled wet noises choking out from his full mouth, but even through the haze of his vision Johnny can see he looks _happy_. He fucks into his face a little faster, a little less carefully as Taeyong’s eyes glaze over and his fingers twitch on the backs of Johnny’s legs.

Pressure is building fast in Johnny’s stomach and every choking noise Taeyong makes only adds to it. Johnny exhales, shaky and loud, losing what control he had left and snapping his hips fast into Taeyong’s mouth, forcing his tongue down, gagging him. Fuck, he’s gonna come soon, he can’t stop looking at Taeyong’s face, all shiny with spit, eyelashes wet, jaw open wide, mouth stretched red.

“Fuck, Taeyong, you look so good, I’m close, you’re so good at this baby,” Johnny says in a rush, fucking into Taeyong’s mouth one more time hard, then pulling out.

Taeyong follows him with his mouth, whining long and pitchy, straining to keep his cock in his mouth. He sucks at the head, tongues at the slit, looking up at Johnny imploringly.

“Fuck, god.” Johnny hunches over and grabs onto Taeyong’s hair. “You want me to come in your mouth?” he asks, even though it’s pretty fucking clear.

Taeyong nods without letting go of Johnny’s dick. He suckles on the head, moves his tongue with sloppy determination, scrapes his teeth against Johnny just barely, and that’s it, Johnny’s yelling and coming into Taeyong’s mouth. Taeyong closes his eyes and chokes out a series of muffled noises as Johnny’s toes go white and his whole body shakes through it, filling Taeyong’s mouth. Taeyong holds still and swallows around him.

Johnny groans, waits a moment or two before he slips out from between Taeyong’s swollen lips, sitting back on his heels, straddling Taeyong’s hips, muscles trembling.

Taeyong swallows again, a tiny bit of come slipping out of his mouth and down his jaw. He opens his eyes and they’re bloodshot and wet. He falls back with a moan, tossing his head against the pillow; he’s panting, skin shining with sweat, cock red and straining against his belly. “Oh my god Johnny,” he croaks, voice absolutely fucking wrecked. “Taste good, please, so good, please I wanna come.”

Johnny’s brain is buzzing and his limbs feel like noodles still, but Taeyong hasn’t come, Johnny still hasn’t made Taeyong come, so he says, “Okay, baby, okay,” and presses his palm against Taeyong’s cock.

Taeyong is so wet, so hard, and Johnny grinds the heel of his hand down, pressing his cock hard against his belly, as hard as he dares, so hard he’s sure it hurts. Taeyong _shouts_. He comes, shooting up over his stomach, his ribs, his chest, his groans so, so loud it’s almost enough to make Johnny worry.

Almost.

Taeyong still has a bit of come on his cheek when he finally opens his eyes, so Johnny reaches for his face with a dirty finger and swipes it up, pushes it into his mouth, raw and red and puffed at the corners from the stretch. Taeyong gives a wrecked moan around his finger, tongue curling around it, scooping up every trace of come, and sucks on Johnny’s finger for a while until Johnny pulls back.

“Oh my godddddd,” Taeyong groans once he’s caught his breath a little. “That was… I can’t believe you! Johnny!”

Johnny, spent and sex-heavy, finally flops down onto the bed, landing only partly on top of Taeyong. He laughs, breathless. “What? You thought about this but you _didn’t_ think it’d be this good?”

“No, I knew it would be, but oh my god.” Taeyong groans and turns sideways, burying his face in Johnny’s shoulder, biting his skin. “I didn’t think you’d fuck my mouth the first time I asked.”

Johnny giggles into Taeyong’s sweaty hair. “Babyyy,” he coos. “I was just matching your energy.”

Taeyong laughs hard, naked body shaking against his. He smacks Johnny’s hip.

“For real though,” Johnny says. “I wasn’t too rough, right?”

Taeyong laughs again, uncontrolled giggles, burrowing into Johnny. “Nooooo. Too rough, no. Nope. Nuh-uh. I’ll tell you if that ever happens but um.” He raises his head, red cheeks and teary eyes laughing up at him. “But I don’t think ‘too rough with me’ actually exists.”

God. Johnny kisses Taeyong with a groan, hand coming up to his neck, thumb rubbing firm across the front of his throat. He tastes like come. “You’re a dream come true, Taeyongie,” he says and Taeyong giggles again.

“Mmm,” Taeyong hums and smacks his lips together, blinking at Johnny slow and sleepy. “Dream come true.”

They’re all sweaty and they smell like sex and there’s spit everywhere, but they have to get up at 4:30 and they’ll have to shower tomorrow anyway.

Taeyong reads his mind and wrinkles his nose. “We’re dirty.”

“No shit,” Johnny chuckles. “Come on, let’s just go to the other bed, it’s late.”

Taeyong hooks a knobby knee over Johnny’s hip and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Carry me.”

Johnny grumbles, managing to extract himself enough to grab some tissues to clean up the worst of the come, then he rolls towards the edge of the bed and tugs Taeyong along with him. He scoops him up, hands on his ass, squeezing just because he can. He drops them both down on the clean bed and Taeyong immediately wraps himself around Johnny.

“Good night baby,” Johnny says to get one last giggle, which he gets, along with a clumsy kiss to the chin. _God._

“Night baby.”

—

In retrospect maybe they should've done that for the first time in a hotel room, because there's absolutely no chance they weren't loud enough to be heard by the others. Johnny expects Doyoung to be the one to confront them first, but he doesn't seek them out. Instead, it’s Yuta who whispers in his ear as they’re congregating to split into vehicles.

“Way to go, Johnny-yah,” he says with his wickedest smirk.

“What?” Johnny asks even though he knows.

“I knew Taeyong was loud but damn, that was something. I’m gonna go rub it in Doyoung's face that Taeyong screams your name louder than his, to get back at him for breaking my headphones.” Yuta squeezes his shoulder affectionately, and runs off to snag the front seat.

Johnny spends a second too long standing there in shock, and then it's too late to do anything but yell “Stop! No, fuck you!” at a cackling Yuta who’s already separated from him by four to five boys.

—

It turns out there was absolutely no point in worrying about everyone finding out, because everyone found out when the completely non-soundproof walls failed to contain the sound of, as Mark put it, “Taeyong-hyung screaming Johnny-hyung’s name for like an hour straight, Jesus.”

—

Taeyong is in the states alone and Johnny is mad about it. Okay, maybe Taeyong isn’t alone, and maybe Johnny isn’t actually mad about it, but also he misses him and he hasn’t gotten to touch or see him in six whole _days._ He’s starting to think it’ll be _years_ before he gets to fuck Taeyong properly.

They’re digging into their takeout when Johnny’s pocket vibrates. He doesn’t regret setting a different vibration pattern for Taeyong’s texts, even though Doyoung shoots him a look about it.

_ty~ <3: miss u john _

Johnny smiles.

_Miss u too babe_

He gets a string of four blushing face emojis and a sparkly heart in return.

He texts back: _what’s up?_

_ty~ <3: done w stuff 4 the day, chilling in the house. Everyone is just in their rooms _

He’s sure Taeyong is happy to have some alone time, but Johnny’s actually feeling kind of sappy, so he sends: _Wish u were here in our roommmmmm :(_

He can picture the scrunch-nosed hand-over-heart reaction Taeyong is probably having right now.

The next text that comes in is an image _._ Johnny taps on it as fast as he can and his heart skips a beat when it loads. It’s exactly that: Taeyong against a backdrop of fluffy white pillows, pointy nose scrunched up, mouth a cute pout. His hair is still curled and he’s wearing a fuzzy black cardigan that slips off his shoulder a little.

_You look so cute in that. u should wear it more often_

_ty~ <3: okay _

And then, a second later: _I like when u tell me what to do haha_

Johnny’s whole body rushes hot. _Send me another selfie?_ He sends with a winking kiss emoji.

A minute later another image comes in. This one is from a higher angle so he can see a triangle of Taeyong’s soft belly and just a tiny bit of his waistband. His mouth is open, one corner quirked up just slightly. His tongue is, of course, out.

_You’re so gorgeous_

Is this stupid? This is stupid. He should not be sexting Taeyong. He should not be getting even slightly raunchy selfies from Taeyong. Taeyong sends him back a whole string of blushing face and wide-eye emojis, and then: _send me a selfie too?_

“Fuck me,” Johnny says out loud.

“No thanks dude,” says Mark, and Johnny smacks him without looking up.

_I’m at dinner w everyone lol one minute_

Johnny gets up, unnoticed by almost everyone, and heads to the far bathroom. He locks the door and looks at himself in the mirror. He’s just wearing a black t-shirt and track pants, but his hair looks okay and the light has a dimmer. He spreads his legs, cocks his head and parts his lips a little, arching his brow and looking down through his lashes. Not bad. He sends it.

The response is almost instantaneous: _ughghhghhh!!!!_

And two seconds later: _hot!!!_

And then two seconds later: _take off ur shirt lol :3_

Johnny rolls his eyes. Shameless. He toys with the hem of his shirt, and in the end just lifts it so that the V of his hips is visible, his bellybutton. He pushes his hips forward just a little, tilts his chin up, and snaps the photo. There, that’s something. Not too much, but it’s hot (Taeyong will think it’s hot) so he sends it.

Taeyong responds with just a long string of gibberish. Johnny chuckles. There’s no way they can actually sext each other if Taeyong is this worked up over a little hipbone. His phone buzzes again.

_ty~ <3: ugh i need u to fuck me _

Another devastating wave of heat through Johnny’s abdomen.

_You need me to?? Poor baby._ Johnny’s face is burning, but he’s just gonna fucking go for it: _You’re always so ready to beg._

His phone is still for a minute and he’s afraid he came on too strong somehow, but then it lights up and it’s another image.

Taeyong is on his knees on the bed, facing the mirror on the far wall, phone in hand, zoomed in. He’s still wearing his sweater, but it’s unbuttoned now, pushed aside and he’s got a hand tangled in his hair. He’s not wearing pants, just some briefs. At least half hard, biting his lip and looking down at his own reflection, thighs spread wide. His thighs are spread _so wide._

Johnny responds with shaky hands: _fuck_

_ty~ <3: please? _

Another image comes in. Taeyong still kneeling on the bed but this time he’s turned so his back is to the mirror and he’s twisted around, looking over his shoulder with an absolutely fucking ridiculous pout on his face. He's got his sweater hanging off his frame, draped over his arms like a shawl, and he’s sticking his tiny ass out as much as he possibly can.

The Taeyong in the picture is looking at Johnny like he really, truly _does_ need to be fucked. Johnny’s definitely hard now. God.

_You’re so hot taeyongie. that slutty little pose_

He second-guesses the word a couple times, but it honestly just fucking fits, and his gut says Taeyong will be into it, so he hits send. He never has to second-guess much when it comes to Taeyong, but tells himself this is a pretty valid exception.

Three texts come in quick succession:

_Oh my god  
_ _Johnny  
_ _Oh my god!!!!_

Johnny’s heart is beating so fast. He has to ask: _Too much?_

_ty <3: NO _

And then:

_I’m gonna die  
_ _Never stop!!!!  
_ _omg_

Nervousness gone, Johnny chuckles, turning his front camera on. He gets a good angle and pouts his lips into a kiss. He winks, and sends it.

His phone is silent for a solid minute and a half. Johnny knows it will be a picture, and he taps his fingers on the back of his phone in anticipation. He’s right. Taeyong’s flipped the camera around too and the high angle makes his eyes look _massive._ His face is pink and his teeth are sunk into his bottom lip so hard it looks like it hurts. Johnny’s honestly so distracted by his face that it’s a few long moments before he notices that Taeyong’s hand is cupped over his crotch at the bottom of the frame, veins in his hand bulging like he’s squeezing his clothed cock tight.

_Fuck Yongie you look so good  
_ _I wanna touch you  
_ _Squeeze your cock like that_

Typing that in a real context sends a flutter of anxiety through his spine but it’s nothing compared to the pulse of arousal in his gut.

_need u to touch me  
_ _please fuck me please  
_ _dont wanna come without u but im gonna :(_

God. Mid-masturbation and still using emojis. Johnny’s as endeared as he is turned on. He gives in and grinds a palm down hard into his erection.

_It’s okay baby, you can come, i’ll touch you soon, you don’t have to wait  
_ _Imagine it’s my hand on your cock instead, imagine i’m pinning you down and touching you rough_

Taeyong’s response is immediate: _id let u do anything_

God. _God_ , how is this happening? Johnny and yanks his pants down. He rushes, doesn’t want to leave Taeyong hanging, shoves a hand into his underwear. He’s already close, which is ridiculous but whatever.

He decides to send Taeyong over the edge with him, and holds up the camera with one hand, the other wrapped tight around his shaft. He angles it so you can only see his mouth and his torso, shirt hiked up, hand in his boxers, dick visibly hard. He says a quick prayer that no one ever hacks his fucking phone, and sends it. His dick twitches and he squeezes it with a pained groan. Taeyong reads his message right away but doesn’t respond, which seems like a good sign, so Johnny braces himself on the counter and strokes himself faster.

A minute later, Johnny’s right on the edge and a picture pops up. Taeyong’s face isn’t in the frame at all, but there’s no mistaking those narrow hips, the delicate dip of his waist, the soft expanse of his stomach. His stomach that’s splattered with come. And that’s all it takes, Johnny moans too loud in the quiet room and comes over his hand. _Fuck._ His legs are trembling. He got come on the fucking counter. _God._

He gets his shit together just enough to wash his hands and the counter off before he sits down on it and picks up his phone again.

_Fuck Taeyongie you’re so hot, i came so hard when i saw you like that  
_ _All fucked out_

_ty <3: aahhhghhhhhh  
_ _I cant feel my legs oh my god_

Then: _show me???_

It’s crazy to regret cleaning the come off his hand but now Johnny wishes he hadn’t. He takes a picture of his flushed skin and there’s a damp spot on his boxers though, so that's gotta be enough for now. He sends a heart after, for good measure.

—

Taeyong is in that mode where he’s bone-tired but instead of stilling, he operates at double speed.

Normally, Johnny would just leave him space to do whatever inane activity he chooses to busy his mind with, maybe bring him a snack, eventually disrupt him enough to snap him out of it and convince him to sleep. But now… now he has more options.

He’s not going to jump into anything when Taeyong’s this jittery and exhausted, but he is going to push a little because it’s still Taeyong, and Taeyong always likes being pushed a little.

Taeyong is listening to some too-loud techno and re-folding the clothes in his drawers even though he’s already unpacked. He only startles a little when Johnny comes in, but he shoots a little close-lipped smile over his shoulder. Johnny comes up behind him, leans down to drape his arms heavy over Taeyong’s shoulders. He twitches a little but doesn’t relax into Johnny, and his hands keep moving, busy. His shoulders are rock hard with tension.

“Hi Yongie,” he says into Taeyong’s fried hair. “Have you slept at all or have you just had seven cappucinos and a whole chocolate bar?”

Taeyong gasps, scandalized and dramatic. “How did you know?”

Johnny smacks his chest lightly and knocks his chin against the top of his head. “You left all your shit on my desk, that’s how.”

Taeyong sways back a little, but he’s still thrumming with odd energy. “Sorry,” he says, sounding sort of like he means it.

Johnny hums. He threads a hand into Taeyong’s hair, scratching his scalp a few times before he closes his fist and tugs, sharp and quick. Taeyong squeaks. It works, though: Taeyong feels slightly looser against him, leans on him with more of his weight.

“When I talked to Doyoung he mentioned helping you, uh.” He trails off, not sure how blunt to be, but Taeyong’s frame starts shaking with giggles.

“Helping me with stress?”

“That’s how he put it, yeah,” Johnny chuckles. One of his hands wanders down to scratch at Taeyong’s sternum. Taeyong turns his head to look at him, surprise in his face

“You wanna hear about what I’ve done with Doyoung?”

“Well. Only if you wanna tell me, but I am curious,” Johnny says, honestly. “He told me… some stuff. When I asked about you.”

“Whatever he said, I’m sure he didn’t lie,” Taeyong says with a little wheezy laugh, turning in Johnny’s arms. “It has been a stress relief thing. I can’t even remember when we started, it kinda just happened. ” He shrugs his pointy shoulders. “He just knows how to push me around. I didn’t even realize how much I needed that until…”

“Until it was happening?”

Taeyong bobs his head. “It started a while ago but we don’t do it that often,” he shrugs, then blushes. “It’s, uh. Good. He’s good.” His face flushes deeper and he shakes his head a few times like he can shake off the color.

Johnny does a quick emotional scan for jealousy, but comes up empty. Anything that gets Taeyong something he needs is a good thing.

Johnny smiles and ducks in to kiss Taeyong once, sucking at his upper lip, pressing them together for a long, hot moment. He pulls back and Taeyong props himself against Johnny’s chest with both hands.

“Honestly I can’t believe you two have been fucking around and no one ever noticed,” Johnny chuckles. “Everyone found out about us in less than two minutes.”

“Yeah, ‘cause me and Doie tried not to do anything in the dorms,” Taeyong laughs. “Have I ever said I’m super glad you don’t live with Mark?”

“Is that it?” Johnny smirks, drags his hands down Taeyong’s sides, firm. “Or is it just that you couldn’t control yourself around me? Didn’t care if everyone found out?”

Taeyong sucks in another laugh, red-eared with his shoulders hiked up. “Mhmmm whoops, guess not.”

“I like that,” Johnny says, and his voice comes out lower than intended. Taeyong’s laugh cuts off abruptly in a hitched breath. Johnny squeezes his waist tight, digging his fingers in, probably getting some muscle knots, feeling Taeyong twitch.

“I like…” Taeyong says, eyes fixed on Johnny’s mouth. “I told you I like it when you tell me what to do and I meant it. I like that. Makes me feel like I’m doing a good job. Working hard. Doyoungie tells me what to do. What he wants. He tells me to work harder, so I do.”

A shudder runs through Johnny and he squeezes Taeyong to him. “Didn’t think it was possible for you to work harder.”

“I like to think I could work harder...” Taeyong speaks with such a small voice Johnny can barely hear him, but then he looks up and his eyes are wide and open. “If you made me.”

It’s like all the air is sucked from the room and Johnny’s lungs fill with steam instead. He tugs on Taeyong’s hair again, yanks his head back, bares his throat. Johnny strokes his fingers over it, pressing in a little, feeling him swallow. Taeyong makes a tiny sound and Johnny can feel that too. He wraps his hand around the side of his neck and squeezes lightly, just for a moment, before he slides around to grip his nape.

“I still can’t see it.” Johnny clicks his tongue. Taeyong frowns, but he’s not tense at all anymore, just trembling and pressed fully to Johnny’s front. “How bout you give me a demonstration?”

Taeyong pulls in a harsh breath through his teeth and lets it back out as a whine. He reaches for Johnny’s zipper with both hands.

—

Subtlety is not one of Taeyong’s strengths, and when he hints he hints hard. In this case it’s 100% clear that what Taeyong wants is Johnny’s dick. Brushing him off with blowjobs and makeout sessions that end in them falling asleep sweaty and gross are no longer enough to satisfy him.

It’s not that Johnny _doesn’t_ want to fuck Taeyong. He really definitely absolutely does.

It’s just that Taeyong doesn’t have any fucking self-control, and if he had his way they’d fuck in 20 minutes before they leave for practice, or while they can hear the sounds of Donghyuck and Jungwoo playing games in the background, and Johnny doesn’t want that. He wants the time and the space and the liberty to be as thorough and loud as they want; he wants to hear every single sound in Taeyong’s vocabulary without anyone teasing them for it the next day.

He did get to finger Taeyong over the bathroom counter last week, and while the visual was out of this world and will haunt Johnny's dreams for decades, it was too cold and uncomfortable to do for as long as he’d wanted and they’d rushed to a desperate splash of come across the mirror.

It turns out that Taeyong deals with his frustration by teasing the shit out of Johnny, not caring who gets caught in the crossfire.

He’s wearing a tiny sheer tank top and some shorts that are way too tight to be dancing in, every energetic motion of his body outlined. He keeps making eye contact with Johnny through the mirror and biting his damn lip and Johnny just wants to shove him against the glass and rip his tank top in half. He drinks three full water bottles down after practice and pointedly does not sit next to Taeyong in the van, can’t handle any hands on his thighs or the scent of Taeyong’s overworked body.

When they get home, he showers for as long as possible without looking like an asshole. If he’s lucky, Taeyong will be asleep when he comes out, a little starfish in his bed, and Johnny will get to sleep mercifully early.

Instead, what he gets is Taeyong’s ass.

Taeyong, ass bare, on _Johnny’s fucking_ _bed,_ face pressed into Johnny’s pillow, with two crooked fingers inside. Johnny can see his rim stretched and shiny and red around his bumpy knuckles. He’s still wearing his tank top, and his shorts are bunched around his knees.

“Taeyong...” God, Johnny’s voice sounds rough and quiet against Taeyong’s harsh breathing.

Taeyong just closes his eyes and opens his mouth, letting out a long broken “Aaaa-ahhh-ah!” Johnny can’t see his face too well, but it looks like he’s smiling. He’s trying to push Johnny over the edge.

Johnny is about to jump right off that cliff happily, but he has to pay Taeyong back for teasing him all week. So he tries to smooth out his face, walks over to the bed as if his legs aren’t shaking, and says lowly, “What are you doing in my bed without me?”

Taeyong’s voice is so muffled Johnny can barely understand when he says, “Waiting for you.”

Waiting for him. Thighs spread, knees pressed into his mattress, one hand fisted in the sheets the other barely moving, just pressing as far as he can into his ass. Taeyong tremors and a needy whine lilts out of him when Johnny reaches out to trail his fingertips along the base of his spine.

“Yongie…” Johnny touches one of Taeyong’s silver rings on the hand that's inside him. “Do you think fingering yourself in someone else’s bed is a great way to get what you want?”

“Sort of,” Taeyong pants.

Johnny grins fondly — only because Taeyong can’t see him — and flicks Taeyong’s ass cheek, sharp. Taeyong yelps.

“So pretty.” Johnny can’t bring himself to torture Taeyong more without saying it first, like it’s stuck in his throat.

“Pretty,” Taeyong whines, twitching, spreading his fingers out.

“Pretty unbelievable.” Johnny watches in awe as Taeyong shivers and shoves his fingers deeper into his hole with a pained noise. “Too desperate to finger yourself in your own bed on your own time? Too much of a slut?”

Taeyong _keens_ , voice pitching higher than Johnny’s ever heard it. It’s not good enough to scratch the itch Johnny has now buzzing under his skin, the need to make Taeyong fall apart, give him what he’s so loudly asking for and more _._

“Answer me,” Johnny says, soft and firm. He reaches for Taeyong’s hair, fists it and gives a hard tug before letting go, letting his head fall back down with a thump. “Do you really need it that bad?”

“Need that bad,” Taeyong says, words all slurred together. “Need you, need your bed, need you to fuck me, please, waited, Johnny, ah —”

“No patience, baby,” he says. “You want me to fuck you? How? You’re not even ready for three fingers.” His tone is taunting and Taeyong whines again.

“No, I am, I am,” he babbles and immediately pulls his fingers out and shoves three back in, crying out loudly, biting down on Johnny’s pillow.

Johnny clucks his tongue and looks around until he spots the bottle of lube, grabbing it and drizzling it directly over Taeyong’s hole. He doesn’t stop until Taeyong’s skin is all shiny and wet and his sounds are a little less pained.

“That’s better, baby,” Johnny says, stroking a firm hand over his ass, ghosting over where his fingers disappear. Taeyong sobs, drooling into his pillow, arching his back, trying to fuck himself but it’s clearly not working. It’s the wrong angle and he’s too far gone to put much strength or rhythm into it. “Poor Taeyongie. You waited all this time, you’re in my bed, and you still can’t get fucked properly.”

“Please please pleasepleaseplease,” Taeyong wails. “Johnny, Johnny come on, please fuck me.”

“If you can come on your fingers first, I’ll fuck you,” Johnny says.

“I can, I can, I can,” Taeyong insists. He’s furrowing his eyebrows, squeezing his eyes shut, chewing his lip raw.

Johnny takes pity on him. He places his hand over Taeyong’s and _pushes_ , shoving Taeyong’s fingers inside him as deep as they’ll go. Taeyong shouts, so Johnny eases up and then does it again, pushing on the back of Taeyong's hand and fucking him forcefully with his own fingers. He’s drooling now, soaking Johnny’s pillow with his desperate sounds.

“Come on, be good and come for me so I can finally get inside you.”

That and a few more hard presses of his hand is all it takes. Taeyong shouts as he comes across Johnny’s sheets, his whole body shaking with it, breathing with his mouth wide open and still full of pillowcase. “Good boy,” Johnny coos, an impulsive pet name that tugs yet another whine from Taeyong’s bitten lips. He grabs Taeyong’s wrist and gently pulls his fingers out.

“P-please,” Taeyong sobs, voice shot. “Please, please fuck me now.”

And Johnny physically can’t deny him anymore, so he kisses Taeyong at the base of his spine and grabs him by the hips, flips him over. God he looks wrecked, face wet and splotchy, irises blacked out. He tugs the shorts all the way off Taeyong’s legs and shoves his tank top up. Taeyong is either still hard somehow or hard again already, flushed and wet. Johnny quickly rips off the rest of his own clothes and swoops in fast for a messy kiss, licking into his mouth.

He gets his whole self in between Taeyong’s legs, forcing them open wide. His hole is still shining with lube but Johnny drips a generous amount over it anyway, massages the red skin with the pads of his fingers. Taeyong is so, so sensitive, his whole body jerking, twitching with every movement, each new bit of pressure.

“Hmm,” Johnny hums, rubbing, pressing harder, letting one fingertip barely slip past the rim and out again. “My fingers are bigger than yours, you sure you’re ready?”

“I can take it!” Taeyong insists, looking into Johnny’s eyes, pleading. He tilts his hips, trying and failing to rock himself onto Johnny’s fingers.

“If you can take them all right away I’ll let you have my dick, how does that sound?”

Taeyong just whines, long and pitchy, hikes his knees further up. Johnny grins at him and pushes three fingers into him at once, smooth and steady. “ _Fuck_ ,” Johnny says, with feeling; heat roaring up in his gut at how hot and slick he feels, how he opens up with barely any resistance.

“Ahh-hah!” Taeyong throws his head back, breathing fast, throat on display. “Yes, oh my god, finally, please,” he slurs.

Johnny pulls his fingers all the way out, ignoring Taeyong’s sad noise, then pushes them back in, this time with his pinkie too. Taeyong’s whine chokes off and then he’s just hitching breaths and trembling under Johnny, hole stretched red around his fingers. Johnny fucks him like that once, twice, again until Taeyong’s noises move closer to sobs than moans.

“Oh baby, I know,” Johnny says when Taeyong lets out a pitiful cry. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna fuck you for real now. Focus on me.”

Taeyong manages to lift his head enough to make eye contact. “You look gorgeous,” Johnny says, because he does, and Taeyong answers with a noise that sounds like “thank you” and “please” smushed together.

Johnny slicks himself up, almost as desperate as Taeyong at this point, and leans forward to kiss him messy and wet as he finally pushes in. It’s Johnny’s turn to moan long and loud into Taeyong’s panting mouth; his legs are clamped tight around Johnny’s waist and his ass is clenched tight around Johnny’s dick and _fuck_ , he pulls out and thrusts back in, slow and steady, bottoming out. Taeyong huffs out a sound that almost sounds like a laugh against Johnny’s face. “Ha-aah! Yes, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,” he chants.

It takes Johnny a minute to realize that he can’t find a good rhythm because Taeyong is tilting his hips up as Johnny fucks him, chasing him. “Do you need more? Still not enough?” Johnny manages to say. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fu-ahhhh,” Taeyong moans, shaking his head even as he answers, “Fuck me harder, pleasepleaseplease.”

Johnny dips down to bite at the base of his neck and thrusts into him _hard_. And Taeyong just collapses, throws his head back, relaxes his grip on Johnny’s hair. “Yesyesyesyes Johnny yes,” he babbles, whole body jolting with the force of Johnny’s thrusts, eyes unfocused, cock bouncing and drooling onto his belly. And Johnny is not going to last long, the heat of Taeyong’s body burning through him; the pressure around his cock, the obscene sounds spilling out of Taeyong’s slack mouth, so he fucks Taeyong like it’s his job. The harder he thrusts the louder Taeyong gets and Johnny stops worrying about hurting him, fucks into him as hard as he can, again and again.

And god, even with his vision fogged by arousal Johnny can _see_ Taeyong shaking further and further out of his mind, limp body rocking back and forth, babbling words that aren’t words, fingers scrabbling at the sheets until Johnny reaches for them, closes his hands around Taeyong’s bony wrists and pins them down.

After that, all it takes is a bite to the collarbone hard enough to draw blood and a whisper in Taeyong’s ear: “It’s okay, I already know how easy you are. Just come for me.”

Taeyong does, yelling long and loud, whole face contorted with it. His heaving chest painted with come, all the way up to his neck, cock wet, untouched and painfully red, fingers twitching in Johnny’s grasp. Johnny would laugh at how easy that truly was, but he’s speechless at this point, too close to the edge, and then he’s coming, the spasming heat of Taeyong’s body too much to take with how he’s clenching randomly and squirming around. 

He lets his whole weight collapse on top of Taeyong, making him squeak and go still. Johnny groans, stays for a moment before rolling over to let him breathe. 

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” is all Taeyong says, eyes still closed lying still with his arms by his sides like a ragdoll. He’s smiling.

“You good baby?” Johnny snakes an arm across his sweaty torso, squeezes around his waist. 

Taeyong starts giggling too much to even answer, which Johnny confidently takes as a _yes._

—

“Oh my god Taeyongie-hyung can you _please_ shut the fuck up!” That’s Donghyuck’s voice from the way-back seat, loud and irritated, followed by Doyoung’s equally loud “Don’t fucking curse!”

Johnny, with one earbud in and a slight immunity to Taeyong’s background noises, hadn’t noticed until then: Taeyong is vibrating in his seat next to Johnny, scrolling through his phone at the speed of light and making sound effects, alternating between humming to himself, popping his lips, and reading random words and phrases from Twitter aloud. It’s nothing too different from Taeyong’s usual babble of stress-tension and nonsense-noise, but it’s clearly grating on some nerves today.

The yelling snaps Taeyong out of it for a second and he swivels to shoot Donghyuck a sheepish smile.

As always, once Johnny’s eyes are on Taeyong they don’t want to leave, so he keeps them trained on Taeyong’s profile. He’s biting his lip and bouncing both legs, shoulders up to his ears. Johnny reaches up and squeezes one shoulder, reminding him to drop them. It only lasts a minute though, and then Taeyong is humming again and Donghyuck is sighing performatively behind them.

“Hey,” Johnny whispers, and Taeyong whips his head around so fast it makes Johnny cringe. He closes a hand around Taeyong’s arm and squeezes hard. “Be good.”

Taeyong blinks up at him frozen and wide-eyed for a good few seconds and then the inevitable blush comes and Taeyong opens his mouth, lets out a long, garbled groan and throws his head back in his seat. Johnny digs his nails into Taeyong’s skin and the groan sputters out quick. He doesn’t say anything, but he starts breathing through his nose, hard and heavy, jaw clamped shut.

Johnny keeps the steel grip on Taeyong’s arm for the rest of the drive home, and Taeyong keeps quiet.

He has no plan beyond ‘get Taeyong somewhere with a closed door and something to shove him against’ as they pull in and Donghyuck clambers over everyone to be the first at the door. But when he stands, Taeyong still tight in his grip, he doesn’t budge.

He looks down and — oh.

Taeyong doesn’t move because his other arm is being held hostage by Doyoung. Johnny can see the crescents where Doyoung’s nails bite into Taeyong’s skin and Taeyong is just frozen there, wide eyes darting between them like he’s been caught in the act of something. Johnny meets Doyoung’s calculating eyes over Taeyong’s head.

“Should we talk?”

—

It was the look on Taeyong’s face that sealed the deal. For Johnny, at least; when he saw that open-mouthed surprised smile there was no backing out. Not that he would’ve anyway.

Doyoung is apparently on the same page, since he’s here standing at the foot of the bed next to Johnny, staring down at an already flushed Taeyong. 

It smells like fresh laundry and Taeyong looks like fresh laundry too, fluffy blanket surrounding his small frame completely where he’s vibrating a little in his silky pajamas. Doyoung won’t make eye contact, and Johnny realizes that he’s nervous — a strange color on him around them and behind closed doors. Johnny isn't nervous, really, but the air is thick and tense. 

Taeyong breaks the silence, eyes flicking between them. “Sooooo,” he says and promptly bursts into giggles, shoulders shaking up by his ears. That gets a chuckle out of Doyoung and Johnny decides there’s no more room for awkwardness. 

“So,” Johnny echoes, taking a step forward. He reaches out and threads his fingers through Taeyong’s fried hair. Taeyong’s eyes are already glossy. Johnny looks at Doyoung, snags his gaze and raises an eyebrow. “What are we gonna do with him?”

Taeyong whimpers, high and desperate. 

“Jesus,” breathes Doyoung. Johnny briefly wonders what Taeyong is like when they’re alone together. “Seems like he’s up for anything. Already whining…”

“Oh my godddd,” Taeyong groans and flops backwards into the bed. “Oh my god, I’m —” He scrubs a hand across his face. “Actually maybe this is too much for me to take,” he laughs, then groans again. “You’re both…”

Doyoung laughs and it just sounds like his normal fond laugh.

“Too much?” Johnny asks, keeping his voice light. “Well you heard him Doyoungie, I guess he can’t handle it. Should we go?”

Taeyong springs back up. “Nooooo, you can’t! You promised!” He looks legitimately stricken, and Johnny laughs at him again. 

“We won’t go,” Doyoung interjects. “If you’ll be good and suck us off like _you_ promised.”

Fuck, okay, that shoots right to Johnny’s core and he can see the same feeling in Taeyong. He shudders. Taeyong is already nodding but he doesn’t move, so Johnny tightens his grip in his hair and pulls him forward. He goes easily, with a strangled noise and hands grasping for Johnny’s hips —

“No.” Doyoung’s voice cuts through Taeyong’s momentum and he stops, looks over at him. “Me first. Since you’ve been busy with Johnny, I wanna see if you’ve learned any new tricks.”

Taeyong splutters and looks up at Johnny. “What, do you need permission? Show us what you’ve got, baby.”

“Fuck,” Doyoung mutters under his breath, and unties his drawstring. Taeyong shuffles over on his knees. 

Doyoung doesn’t say anything else, just grabs Taeyong’s wrists when he’s close enough and places his hands on his waistband. He raises an eyebrow and Taeyong takes it as the command it is. Johnny hasn’t _not_ seen Doyoung’s dick before, but he’s never seen _this._ Seeing Taeyong start to drool and immediately pitch forward to suck Doyoung’s thick cock into his waiting mouth — Johnny gains a whole new level of appreciation for their dynamic. 

God, Taeyong looks blissed out of his mind already. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is stretched _wide_. His hands have fallen down to his sides and he’s balled them into fists — he doesn’t need them, has no trouble taking all of Doyoung’s cock at once, choking and drooling over it but taking it. He’s breathing hard, sitting up straight. 

Doyoung is amazingly quiet; the only noises in the room are the air conditioner and the wet muffled sounds of Taeyong’s busy mouth stuffed to the limit. Johnny gets lost staring at Taeyong’s cheeks hollowed in, the trail of spit that slicks over his chin and down his tense neck. Still not saying anything, Doyoung starts to thrust a little against Taeyong’s face, making him sway back and forth, furrow his eyebrows, fingers twitching like he wants to stabilize himself but is holding back from touching. Does Doyoung usually tell him he can’t touch? _Fuck —_

After a moment, Taeyong starts to really lose his balance, pitching forward, folding at the waist, so Johnny steps in. He moves to stand next to Taeyong, threads a hand through his hair again, uses it to steady Taeyong and brings the other to his face — guiding him down while he strokes over his tight jaw, pokes at his cheeks, pads across the taut red corners of his mouth. He’s touching Doyoung’s dick a little but decides not to think about that yet. 

“Look at you,” Johnny breaks the quiet. “Pretty, slutty baby. Trying so hard.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow and he whines, loud as he can with his mouth full, fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to touch himself. 

His words get a reaction from Doyoung too, a startled-sounding groan and he says, “You like that? You want me to call you a slut too?” Taeyong makes a noise that’s not at all clear but is still a clear _yes, please._

“You really are such a little slut, always so ready, so eager.” Doyoung’s pretty mouth is curled up in a smile and it’s not even mean, it’s genuine. 

Taeyong’s muffled noises are louder now, wetter, and he’s stopped trying to sit up on his own at all now that Johnny’s holding onto him, letting himself fall forward, pulling his own hair with Johnny’s hand. 

From Johnny’s angle all he can see is Taeyong’s face pressed to Doyoung’s crotch, how messy he’s getting, but Taeyong must still be concentrating well because Doyoung’s breathing is speeding up, little low hums coming from his throat now. He thrusts against Taeyong’s face a little more forcefully, jerking Taeyong’s head back and forth while Johnny holds him up and spit rolls from the corners of his mouth in a steady trickle. 

Just when it seems like Doyoung is getting close, he pulls back all the way. Taeyong lets out a cry as his mouth is suddenly left empty. If Johnny let go of his hair now he’s sure Taeyong would crumple to the ground; he tightens his fist and Taeyong whimpers. 

“Shh, baby,” Doyoung coos. “You aren’t concentrating, I’m not going to come in your mouth if you don’t try your best.” Taeyong whimpers again and it’s a wet, pathetic sound. “Why don’t you give Johnny a turn, see if you can do better, hm?” 

Taeyong whimpers again and looks up at Johnny with big, teary eyes. Johnny’s dick twitches. “Fuck,” he groans and hauls Taeyong up by the face so he can kiss him, realizing he hasn’t yet today and licking into his mouth fast, tasting Doyoung’s precome on Taeyong’s tongue and not minding one fucking bit. 

When he breaks away, Doyoung is right there. “Cmon, Yongie.” He puts his hands on Taeyong’s shoulders and pushes so he falls to the floor again, bony knees hitting with a loud thunk that makes Johnny wince. “Show us if you can do it right.”

“I can do it,” Taeyong whines. “I can!”

“Come on, then,” Johnny says, letting his voice go disinterested and yanking on his own waistband so his cock springs free. “Suck.”

Taeyong does, fast and eager, slurping Johnny down and curling his tongue around the base of his cock, sucking like his life depends on it. Johnny can’t help the noise he makes, the wet slick heat after so long with no stimulation lighting his whole body up. He knows he’s leaking already, into Taeyong’s desperate mouth.

“Mmph!” Taeyong shouts suddenly around Johnny’s dick as the couple centimeters he hadn’t taken yet push in. 

Doyoung’s hands are on Taeyong’s shoulders, the back of his neck, and he’s pushing forward, forcing Taeyong to take Johnny’s cock all the way into his throat and keep it there. God, he really is trying hard, making sure to keep his tongue purposeful, keep the suction, cover his teeth even as Doyoung shoves him forward so his nose is squished against Johnny’s abdomen and he’s huffing out short blocked breaths.

“Sit up,” Doyoung’s voice cuts through the haze. “Come on, sit up straight, there you go.”

Johnny looks up from Taeyong’s face to see Doyoung’s hands taking his shoulders and pulling them back, straightening his spine, forcing his face up slightly so he can breathe better. Johnny can feel the spit sliding down his balls, probably pooling on the floor by now, and Taeyong’s brow is furrowed again like he misses being suffocated like that. He tries to move down Johnny’s dick again, get it back inside all the way, but Doyoung’s hands keep him from getting what he wants and he grumbles. 

Johnny laughs, breathless. “God you’re so desperate, baby. I bet you always want a cock down your throat, huh? Two at once isn’t enough?”

Taeyong’s muffled whine is long and pleading, but Doyoung doesn’t let up, pulls on him harder so his back arches and he’s straining his neck forward to keep Johnny’s dick between his lips. 

“Oh, Doyoungie’s mean, is he always this mean to you?” Johnny reaches out, catches a tear that’s trickled down Taeyong’s cheek. 

Taeyong opens his eyes for the first time in minutes to look up at him and nods his head sadly, somehow _pouting_ with his mouth this full. 

Johnny laughs. “God, you’re ridiculous,” he says fondly, and looks up to meet Doyoung’s eye for the first time in a while. 

Doyoung laughs too, but it’s a little darker, and then he releases Taeyong. 

Taeyong whose legs are probably asleep by now and who, not expecting it, lurches forward, hands scrambling to grab onto Johnny’s legs, sinking back down on Johnny’s dick so fast that he chokes. 

“Fuck,” Johnny hisses, grabbing Taeyong’s hair again as his throat constricts. 

Taeyong, to his credit, is trying hard to sit up straight, keep his shoulders back, but he’s still gagging, spluttering, face screwed up in concentration. Doyoung, though, has turned his back to them. He’s fussing over Taeyong’s bed now, moving his blanket out of the way, rearranging the pillows, ignoring them completely. 

After a few moments of huffing on Johnny’s cock, Taeyong pulls himself off. He laps up the drool around his red mouth and swings his head around, looking for Doyoung. “Are you paying attention?” he whines, voice pitching high and hoarse. 

Doyoung spares a glance over his shoulder and says, “I’m paying attention, keep going.” Then he turns around again, clearly _not_ paying attention, but it seems to be enough for Taeyong, who slurps Johnny’s cock back between his lips.

Johnny only lets him for a minute though, the pressure building in his gut too fast for whatever Doyoung is planning for that bed, and guides Taeyong off him. 

“Good boy,” he says, and Doyoung scoffs. Johnny swipes a thumb across Taeyong’s raw lower lip. “I think we’re moving on, though.”

Taeyong whines again. “Okay, but can someone _please_ come in my mouth later?”

That gets a laugh out of both of them, and Doyoung finally does pay attention, walking back to Taeyong and lifting him up from the floor. “Well see,” he says, kisses Taeyong on the sweaty forehead, and shoves him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he goes down. “First, though…” 

He helps Taeyong strip out of his clothes and his whole body is flushed pink and pretty. He manhandles Taeyong’s limbs until he’s on his stomach, face smooshed into the pillow and blinking over at Johnny. He grabs Taeyong’s hips and lifts them so his ass is in the air and his back is bent like a bow. “There we go. Now we can both have a nice view when we fuck you.”

“F-fuck,” Taeyong whines, somehow already drooling into the pillow. “Fuck me, fuck me, god, please, I’m _—_ ”

Johnny finally snaps out of it, taking a couple long strides until he can touch, stroking his palm firmly down the nape of Taeyong’s neck. “You’re what?”

Taeyong shudders. “I need it.”

Johnny coos, and looks over at Doyoung, whose eyes are dark and focused as he smooths his pretty hands up Taeyong’s thighs, across his ass. He lifts one up and brings it down in a smack that makes Taeyong’s whole body jolt. 

“A-ahh,” Taeyong cries. “Please, please.”

“Hmm,” Doyoung muses. “Johnny should finger you, it’ll go faster.”

Taeyong moans brokenly so Johnny takes that as his cue and moves behind Taeyong, drinking in the sight of him arched, his knees spread open like this, on display. Doyoung has already set the lube and condoms right where he can reach, so he wastes no time slicking up his fingers and touching Taeyong, keeping the pressure light, spreading the slick around his hole, liberal with it, until his skin is all shining wet. 

He only gives Taeyong a moment to adjust to one finger before he’s adding another, more than confident in Taeyong’s ability to take them, then a third, spreading Taeyong open. He’ll never get used to the slick heat of Taeyong’s body and the way he starts clenching so soon, like he’s trying to get Johnny’s fingers deeper than it’s possible to go. When Taeyong’s mumbling turns to nonsense muffled by his pillow, he adds a fourth finger. Taeyong moans long and choked up, arching his back more, pushing against him. Just when he’s starting to squirm and his moans kick up in pitch, Johnny takes his fingers out.

“Nooooo,” Taeyong cries, and Johnny rolls his eyes. So predictable.

“You want em back, baby?”

Taeyong whines out a noise that isn’t even close to being an answer. “Do you?” Johnny tries again, then looks up at Doyoung, who shakes his head. 

“Please, Johnny,” Taeyong manages. Johnny swats his ass with a little bit of force and he _keens_.

“Alright,” Johnny agrees. He stands and moves back towards Taeyong’s head. Taeyong’s eyes go wide when he realizes Doyoung is behind him again. They go even wider when Johnny grabs Taeyong’s chin and pries his jaw open. 

“Here you go,” Johnny says, and shoves four lube-slick fingers into Taeyong’s open mouth.

Johnny will always be amazed by how noisy Taeyong can be with his mouth absolutely fucking stuffed to the brim. He pushes his thumb up under Taeyong’s chin until he feels it give, and Taeyong’s noises aren’t so loud anymore.

“Okay, now,” Johnny says, firm. “Don’t move.” He smiles at Taeyong’s weak attempt to nod.

Doyoung pipes up. “I’ll fuck you, but you can’t come until both of us have, okay?”

“Mff-kay,” Taeyong tries to promise around Johnny’s fingers. Johnny strokes his throat with his thumb. 

Johnny expects Doyoung to fuck him right away, but he doesn’t. Instead he leans down, sticks out his tongue, and buries his face in Taeyong’s ass. Taeyong’s whimpers immediately turn into legitimate cries, his eyes screwing shut and shoulders shaking, muffled sobs around the fingers in his mouth, soaking the pillow through with spit. 

“Ohh,” Johnny says, bending down so Taeyong can hear him over his own cries. “Doyoungie’s so mean. Poor baby.”

Like he hears Johnny and wants to demonstrate how true that is, Doyoung pulls back after just a minute. He drags the back of a hand across his slick mouth and Taeyong _sobs_. That gets him another smack on the ass from Doyoung. 

“Calm down, you’re fine, I’m gonna fuck you now.” Doyoung is trying hard to keep his voice unaffected but he can’t hide his heavy breathing, the arousal in his tone. Johnny has never heard him sound anything like this before. It stirs something new up in his stomach. 

Johnny keeps his fingers in Taeyong’s mouth as Doyoung lines up and pushes in. Taeyong is moaning too much to really suck on them, just lets them rest heavy on his tongue, knuckles prying apart his teeth. The steady saliva pooling and running down his wrist should be gross, but it’s just unbearably hot. Johnny finally gets a hand on his own cock, stroking slow and firm.

Doyoung does not start slow. He fucks into Taeyong at a steady pace, hard enough that the bed jerks back and forth and Taeyong keeps scraping his teeth on Johnny’s knuckles as he’s moved by Doyoung’s thrusts. Doyoung, who’s finally getting loud, groaning, drawn out and melodic, tight grip on Taeyong’s hips holding him up so he can’t rut against the bed, can’t really thrust back against him, can’t do much of anything. 

Taeyong is mumbling around his fingers again, so Johnny takes them back in case he needs to actually speak. “Pleasepleaseplease,” comes tumbling messy out of his mouth. 

Johnny pets over his wet face. “You have to wait for us, remember?”

Taeyong’s crying, but he nods. Doyoung picks up his pace a little and Taeyong’s body moves with him like a ragdoll. Then, abruptly, Doyoung stops moving. 

Johnny wonders if he’s really mean enough to leave Taeyong hanging again, but in a flash of motion he pulls out, grabs Taeyong and flips him over onto his back before he’s leaning back over him, pressing his knees apart and stroking his fist over his cock tight and fast. It’s only a moment and then he’s coming, shooting white all over Taeyong’s stomach and chest, making him keen and arch his ribs up like he can somehow get _more_. 

By the time Doyoung has rolled off to the side Taeyong is giggling, sated and happy like he’s already come even though his cock is still kicking wet and red against his belly. 

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” he moans out, voice scratching and low. He turns his big blown black eyes to Johnny. “What about you? Aren’t I pretty? Don’t you wanna come in my mouth?”

Taeyong basks in the attention as Johnny rakes his eyes deliberately up and down the length of his body. He doesn’t answer, but he does move forward, guides his cock to Taeyong’s face, paints the tip of it across his lips and squeezes. 

He’s so close already and then Taeyong pokes his tongue out and drags it over the head of Johnny’s cock and that’s all it takes. Most of his come ends up inside Taeyong’s mouth, but it fills quickly and his face gets some too, his lips, his cheek, his chin. 

“Good,” Johnny hears through the ringing in his ears, manages to pry his eyes open in time to see Doyoung’s long fingers curl around Taeyong’s cock and squeeze until he’s coming too, mixing with Doyoung’s on his belly, body bending in a pretty, taut arch. 

Johnny waits until he relaxes and then shoves him over on the bed so he can fit too, not wanting to support his own weight anymore. He drops on Taeyong without a thought, not worried about the mess or much of anything anymore.

“Oh my god, ew” Doyoung says. “Okay, hang on Yongie I’m gonna get something to clean you up, just a second.” He pets through Taeyong’s hair once, softly, before he gets up. 

Taeyong’s face is messy with sweat, spit, and come but he still looks too perfect, even up close. It’s almost too much, but the fact that Taeyong is chasing all the come he can reach with his tongue helps. He stretches it as far as he can, grunting a little in frustration when he can’t reach some on his cheek. Johnny chuckles.

“Here baby, I’ll help.” He pushes a glob of come from Taeyong’s cheek down to his mouth, pressing in.

“Ahhhhh, thank you, thank you,” Taeyong breathes, tongue curling around his finger to get at it all. 

There’s a minute of peaceful, warm silence, Taeyong just licking at Johnny’s skin until Johnny takes his hand back, kisses him short and deep and wet. 

comes back with a wet towel and a smirk curling his lips. “Next time we’ll fuck you at the same time, how’s that sound?” he says. Taeyong sputters and blushes a fresh red across his face. 

“Should we take that as a yes?” Johnny asks even though he knows the answer. 

“God, yeah, obviously it’s a yes.” Taeyong grumbles and turns to bury his face in Johnny’s shoulder. 

Doyoung finishes wiping Taeyong’s sticky skin down and hauls himself up on Taeyong’s other side, pets through his hair, such a gentle touch compared to five minutes before. “Between the two of us I think we could find out just how much you can _really_ take,” Doyoung says, and Taeyong groans into Johnny’s skin. 

Johnny is really, really on board with that plan and he says so, chuckling when Taeyong shudders, wriggling around, close to pressing his hips against Johnny’s side, just the suggestion enough to work him up.

“Looks like he wants to find out now,” Johnny teases, ghosting his hand up and down the soft curve of Taeyong’s waist to see him shiver again. 

“Oh my god,” Taeyong whines. He bites down on Johnny’s arm and hooks a leg over his hip. “Give me like fifteen minutes.”

Johnny laughs. 

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW!!!! hope you enjoyed!!! please let me know if i left out any important tags...
> 
> this is dedicated to my bb you know who u are <333


End file.
